A Hawk Among Wolves
by wingspan17
Summary: Sole survivor of his family's massacre, Jason wanted nothing to do with the supernatural, But when a certain Doctor calls in a favor, he doesn't have a choice. Now an Alpha with a pack of his own, Jason struggles to find his new place in life, but with Lydia's premonition, all bets are off as Beacon Hills is thrust into a new, more dangerous game. Comments/Reviews welcome.
1. Wings and Ashes

Prologue: Wings and Ashes

Jason stood on the second floor balcony of his family's home, looking up into the sky as the sun drifted lower behind the western mountains. The sky slowly transitioned from its glowing yellow-orange to the deeper purple, revealing the brightest of the stars that heralded the coming of the night. As the last rays of sunlight vanished, he headed inside, closing the double glass doors behind him and drawing the thick curtains shut.

He was nervous. Tonight was the full moon, and it was his very first full moon since he'd been bitten by his mother. He rubbed his side at the memory, the bite marks long since faded away.

"There you are," said his mother. Evelyn Frost climbed the stairs with a grace few women could manage. She glided down the hall and pulled him into a tight embrace. "Are you excited?"

Jason cleared his throat, nodding. "More nervous than excited," he said. "I don't know what's going to happen."

Evelyn laughed. "That's part of the fun!" She grabbed his shoulders and held him at arms length. "Dont worry, your father and older brother are going to be there to help keep you from going crazy."

It was Jason's turn to laugh. "That's not what I'm afraid of."

"You're still afraid of becoming a werehawk?" she asked quietly. "Jason, as overjoyed as I would be if you became one, the chances of that happening are almost slim to none. You're going to be a fine werewolf."

Jason nodded again. "You're not mad?"

"That you'd rather take after your father?" she asked in surprise. "Absolutely not! Your father is a great man, which is why I married him. I'd be happy if you grew up to be like him. But… if you do become a hawk, it's not the end of the world. You can still run around with your friends, you'll be able to keep up with them and everything."

"I know that," said Jason. "I just…. the thing I'm afraid of is…" he sighed in frustration. "Nevermind. You're right, I'm worrying too much."

Evelyn smiled. "There you go, I didn't even have to say it this time. Now, let's get you outside. I dont want you to ruin the decor like your brother did."

Jason laughed and headed down the stairs, through the living room and outside. The sky was pitch black now, with a tapestry of stars shining brightly in every direction. Colorado was beautiful in the summertime, and the sky was unpolluted by the big cities. Their property was massive, stretching in all directions from their house. Their nearest neighbor was several miles away, giving them plenty of privacy from ordinary humans.

Off to one side, Jason could see his father. Despite his age, he was still extremely fit. He crouched low to the ground, eyes blazing with a supernatural yellow glow. He was already fully transformed into a werewolf, with ears elongated into points, facial features obscured by a thickening of the brow and nose. Fangs protruded from his mouth, and the usually thinning hair on the top of his head was thick and full, joined by a set of sideburns that added to his animalistic look. Finally, the nails on each hand had shifted into sharp, deadly claws.

Jason couldn't help but feel a little bit unnerved at the sight. Still technically human, seeing a werewolf activated a subconscious fight or flight response, even though he'd lived around them all his life. He was suddenly on the ground rolling around in the grass as a large object knocked him off his feet. He struggled for a moment, finally ending up with his arms pinned to his sides, with his brother crouching over him. Jordan, a full werewolf as well, grinned, growling softly.

"Hurry up and transform already," He said, baring his fangs. "I've been waiting all month to have a fair wrestling match with you."

Jason chuckled, his air restricted by Jordan's knee. "You're not helping to speed up the process any. Get off of me!" He heaved, throwing Jordan off. He paused, momentarily surprised that he'd been able to do that, then looked at Jordan's stunned face. "You jerk." he muttered under his breath as his brother burst into laughter. Jason stood and dusted himself off, shaking his head. Still as a human, even though he'd started showing signs of his new supernatural abilities, there was no way he'd have been able to throw Jordan off unless he'd purposely let him. "I'll get you back for that. Just wait."

Jordan checked his watch. "How much longer? Or do you plan on transforming at the _next _full moon?" He said impatiently.

Evelyn emerged from the house, placing her hand lightly on Jason's shoulder. "Jason, look. The moon's fully risen."

"Hm?" Jason looked up into the sky. The moon had come up, peeking over the top of their house. It glowed full with an ethereal beauty. He stumbled back a step, as if hit by a physical force, eyes never leaving the moon. His pupils dilated, and the irises, normally a startling green, slowly turned yellow, just like Jordan's and their Dad's; the eyes of a Beta. His breathing sped up and his body began to shake, sweat pouring from his skin. He gasped, gritting his teeth as the pain hit.

"The first transformation always hurts," yelled Jordan. "It only lasts a few minutes!"

Jason barely heard his brother's words, falling forward onto his hands and knees. His ears slowly formed into points, and his jaw jutted forward slightly, canine teeth forming into sharp fangs. His face shifted, becoming more angular, and his skin lost a little of its normal tan. His brow thickened, but his face was smoother, more ethereal, and his claws became slightly longer, and more curved.

Jason convulsed, dropping to the ground, writhing in pain for several minutes as his family watched in concern. Finally, seemingly over, he managed to prop himself up with his arms again, shaking with fatigue. He looked around, breathing hard. Then with a shudder, he grimaced, throwing his head back and letting loose with a deafening, pain-filled roar that echoed in the still night sky. Huge brown hawks wings burst from his back, ripping clean through his shirt before opening to their full span, then retracting to fold neatly behind him. Taken by surprise, his arms nearly buckled under the unexpected weight.

Jordan gasped in surprise, staring at his brother's back in shock. His shock turned into concern as Jason fully collapsed again, just laying there on his stomach. He looked to their mom, worried. "Mom, what's going on? Shouldn't he be going berserk?"

Evelyn shook her head. "We wont have to worry about that tonight. His body just went through a major shock. He's exhausted. In fact, he might not have enough strength to manifest his first song tonight."

Mark Frost prowled in closer, shifting to his human form and climbing to his feet. He looked at Jason with interest. "Is this what it was like for you?" He nudged Jason with his foot, getting no response. "I kind of expected something a little more….aggressive?" he said in a tone of disappointment

"You try growing a pair of wings in sixty seconds or less and see how you're doing afterwards," said Jordan, coming to his brother's defense. "Mom, what did you mean about a song?"

"Hawks awaken their power by singing their first song," said Evelyn. "Whatever his first song is, that indicates his most potent ability. He'll probably be a Finder hawk, like me. That was my first song."

Jordan snorted. "Mom, Jason can't sing, much less carry a tune."

He fell silent as Jason stirred, slowly staggering to his feet. His eyes were opened, but unfocused, as if he were in a trance. Slowly, his wings stretched to their full span and he took a deep breath.

Jason sang. His voice was a clear and resonant tenor, pure and strong as he sang in a language that none of them knew, yet all understood. His voice echoed, though it was soft, and it flowed out across their property like water. Beneath their feet, the grass quivered, growing at an accelerated rate until it stood tall at their knees. Farther away, their orchard of apple trees erupted in new growths of blossoms, with their current crop reaching full maturity and dropping off the trees in minutes.

Evelyn, Mark, and Jordan listened in awe, stunned by the sheer beauty of his voice, even more so than the effects his singing had on their surroundings. Finally, after about five minutes, the song ended, the last echos slowly fading away.

Mark caught Jason as he staggered backwards, unbalanced because of his wings. He blinked rapidly, eyes finally coming back into focus. "Dad? What happened?" He looked around at the sudden growth of everything, then stood on his own, slowly reaching behind him. He frowned as his hands felt his wings. It took him a second, but he managed to move them around to his front, and he stroked them softly, shocked.

"Jason, I-" started Evelyn.

Jason looked at her, eyes blazing yellow. "Dont say it." He wasn't angry, exactly. After experiencing the transformation, something about the whole thing felt inherently 'right'. It was so different from the nervous aversion he'd felt towards the whole thing, that he didn't know what to feel. He saw the piles of apples in the orchard, as well as the new growth. He frowned. "What happened to everything?"

"Han'ei Suru," said Evelyn quietly. "It's your first song, Jason. Your power made the plants that heard your song flourish. It's called the song of nourishment and plenty."

Jason's eyes lost focus for a minute as he took in her words, repeating the song's title several times. "Han'ei Suru...wow."

"You'll be able to sing it whenever you want," said Evelyn. "It should be second nature to you."

Jason nodded. "Yes, I can feel it inside my head…" He gasped as his wings faded away, and the rest of his features reverted fully to human.

"You've exhausted yourself, Jason," said Evelyn. "It'll hit in a minute."

As if summoned by her words, a crippling wave of fatigue washed over him and he collapsed to the ground, deeply unconscious.

"He's waking up!"

"Watch out! Hold him down!"

Jason gritted his teeth and wrenched his eyes open, squinting at the sudden brightness from the overhead hospital lights. He groaned as the room seemed to spin around him, his vision completely fuzzy. He had to fight not to vomit. Several hands were grasping at him and he tried to shake them off. He felt his fist connect solidly with something and heard a surprised gasp of pain in response. The agitated yelling increased, then most of the people backed away.

Jason felt something cold under his skin, slowly seeping in and spreading throughout his body. "Jason, Jason! Calm down!" someone was yelling at him. "You're safe, Jason." Suddenly drained of all energy, he slumped against the bed and went still, breathing hard. Forced to be calm by whatever drug they'd hit him with, he waited until his vision slowly returned, and everything around him snapped back into crisp focus.

He was in a hospital bed surrounded by several nurses and two strong-looking men. his entire body was swathed in bandages, and the skin beneath it all felt like one large, burning scab.

One man ushered the rest of them away. "It's okay, he's fine now." All but one nurse left, and the last one continued her tests undisturbed.

Jason blinked, trying to focus more clearly on the man. "Who are you?" His throat was parched and his voice was weak and raspy. "What happened?"

The man cleared his throat and took a steadying breath. "Jason, my name is Doctor Deaton. I'm a friend of your father's." He looked around uncertainly, as if looking for the right words. "Jason, your home was attacked last night." He leaned in close, dropping his voice to a soft whisper. "A group of hunters bombed your home from the air. Authorities think it was a stray practice run from the nearby air force base, but your mother told me it was the Burgess family that did it. Your father and brother were killed in the initial blast, and your mother died a few hours ago. I'm so sorry."

The breath left Jason in a rush as he heard the news. His eyes wanted to water, but the tears wouldn't, or more likely, couldn't come. He just stared at the ceiling in disbelief.

Deaton cleared his throat. "I found you and your mother in the debris and brought you here as fast as I could."

Jason focused on him again. "You saved me?"

Deaton shook his head. "Your mother saved you. I just got you to the hospital. Anyway, she left you a letter…" He held out an envelope to show him. It was addressed to him in his mother's flowing script, though it wasn't as precise as normal. He also held up a small leather pouch. "And she left you these." he removed a large light brown feather, one of his mother's primary feathers. "I dont need to tell you to keep these safe. They're very, very important."

Jason could only nod, unable to speak in agreement. Finally, after several long, silent minutes, his throat opened enough for him to talk. "Thank you, for everything."

"I tried my best," said Deaton sadly. "I'm sorry it wasn't good enough to save the rest of your family." The doors to the ward opened, revealing two men dressed in neat black suits. Deaton turned back to Jason. "Looks like my time is up. Remember this: You can run away and hide from your past and try to forget that it ever happened, or you can learn from it; make it part of who you are, and become strong enough to keep others from suffering like you have." he said quickly, almost urgently.

Jason gave a weak, brave smile. "Thank you again, doctor." he whispered. "And...Thank you for trying to save my mother." He frowned. "I want to give you three wishes, Doctor Deaton. Anything within my power."

"Jason, I appreciate the thought, but it's not necessary," said Deaton.

"It's necessary for me," said Jason. He held up the letter. "It was my...my mother's tradition. I'm doing this for her."

"I see," said Deaton. "Make sure you make a full recovery, Jason. This is probably the last time I'll see you for a while, but I'll try to stay in touch. Good luck." then he was gone, ushered away by the men in suits.

Jason clutched the letter and the pouch close to him, vaguely paying attention as the two men in suits explained about some government witness protection program they were placing him in until he reached legal adult age. He tuned them out as the world seemed to go fuzzy again, then slowly faded to black as a blaring alarm echoed throughout the building.


	2. Fight in Westonville

Chapter One: Fight in Westonville

"Excellent publicity, Jason, if we keep this up, you're going to be one heck of a rising actor in hollywood," said Lance. "I've already gotten calls from three directors who are looking for actors to fill prominent supporting characters, and almost a dozen more e-mails. um, the Pepsi company wants to book you for a commercial, just a one day thing, and Pixar dropped a hint that they need a voice actor with a good singing voice."

After finishing High School, Jason had gone on to college, studying to become an english teacher. That dream had been put on the back burner when his friends forced him to start what became their first band. Six years after the death of his family, he had two music albums, a career as a solo artist, and was just starting to enter the terrifying world of film production, with his most recent debut as a major supporting character in the action/adventure film 'Darklight'. Jason had just come from the VIP access showing of the film, which was set to be released in theaters the following night.

Lance stopped his monologue as Jason held up a hand and plopped in the chair across from his desk.

"Before we get into that, I need to tell you that I'll be leaving for a vacation tomorrow. I have something that I need to take care of, and I don't know exactly how long it's going to take," said Jason.

Lance looked at him for a minute, completely dumbfounded, then burst out laughing. "Jason, stars make it big here because they don't take vacations. You need to keep up the pressure while you've got the chance, otherwise you'll be swept under the rug like so many other actors. Now, I got a call from a small band here in L.A. who asked if they could open for you in your next concert. I listened to some of their stuff, and I think you need to make the final call- what?"

"I'm leaving tomorrow,," repeated Jason. "Please keep my schedule clear until I call you."

Lance sighed. "You're dead set on this?"

"I am," said Jason. "It's a family business type thing."

"Ah," said Lance. "What should I tell everyone?"

"The truth," said Jason. He shrugged.

"You want to know why stars never really get to go on vacation?" said Lance. "They're always followed, they're always found, and always watched. You try to relax in those conditions."

Jason grinned. "I've been doing pretty well for myself. I wont be easy to find."

Lance rolled his eyes. "Good luck. Does that mean you won't be holding any concerts anytime soon either?"

"You're starting to catch on," said Jason. "Talk to you later." He left the office and headed home.

In preparation for his trip, Jason had sold just about everything he owned and put most everything else in storage. He had no way of knowing if he'd be coming back soon, or even if he'd be coming back at all. All he knew was that he would be going to Beacon Hills to fulfill the wishes of an old friend. Doctor Deaton had called him nearly two months ago, asking for Jason to fulfill a wish. It had taken him that long to put everything together, and now he was ready to deliver.

Before heading to bed, he checked over the contents of the giant suitcase he'd be taking with him, as well as the small backpack that contained a few absolute essentials that he needed to keep with him. The suitcase was filled with huge bags of powdered and purified substances that Deaton had explained were very important for practicing druids. Jason in his own research and travels, was not as ignorant as most to the world of the supernatural, though he'd tried his best to keep his own status as a werehawk hidden, effectively cutting himself off from the supernatural world. Everything checked out, and he tried to get some sleep, for his last night in southern california, for a while.

Jason left the next day just before noon, taking the fastest way out of the SoCal area. It was a long drive, and nine hours later, he stopped in Redding california for a quick break. While he was pumping gas, his phone rang.

"This is Jason," he said.

"Hi, Jason, it's Doctor Deaton," said Deaton. "I was just wondering how your trip's going?"

Jason returned the nozzle to the pump and closed his gas tank. "I'm in Redding. I wont be long now. I've got all the supplies you wished for."

"You're making good time," commented Deaton. "I was wondering if you wanted to complete a second wish?"

"Sure," said Jason hesitantly. He frowned. "What is it?"

"There's a small town between Redding and Beacon Hills, called Westonville," said Deaton. "There are two werewolves there, one of them is named Derek Hale. A few weeks ago, he lost his Alpha status by saving his sister's life. I want you to exchange your energy for the amount he used and restore his Alpha status."

"Huh, is that even possible?" asked Jason.

"It is," said Deaton. "Do you still have that book on white magic I sent you a few years ago? It explains a ritual that should do the trick, unless you think you can manage with your own methods…"

"No, I don't have any sort of ability that can do what you're describing," said Jason. "I'm, ah, a little out of practice."

"Okay," said Deaton. "The ritual is under the heading 'energy transfer', and you'll probably need a few primary feathers."

Jason grimaced. "Okay, that won't be a problem."

Deaton paused. "There is one catch, though. Derek is very prideful. If you were to offer to restore him, he'd most likely decline. I need you to subdue him before you can restore him."

Jason chuckled. "I knew there was a catch. I'll see you when I'm done."

"I'll send you a picture in a minute," said Deaton. "Good luck, and, make sure he doesn't find out who you are."

Jason plugged in the new destination in his on board gps and headed out.

Derek Hale sat on a high ledge overlooking the small town of Westonville. It neighbored Beacon Hills and was only slightly larger. The sky was clear of clouds, and the light pollution from the town's lights barely dimmed the stars and moon, which shone with an ethereal light. He and his sister Cora had moved there not long after they all had defeated the Nogitsune. It had taken a toll on all of them, and Derek especially needed time not only to recover, but to reevaluate himself.

Cora crunched her way through the forest debris, shivering in the cold. It was early December, and the temperature had steadily dropped, though it still refused to snow. She pulled her jacket tighter around herself before sitting close to her brother, dangling her feet over the edge of the miniature cliff. "Derek, I'm going to miss you." she said quietly.

Derek shrugged, the corners of his mouth pulling down in a slight frown. "It's not forever. You're always welcome to visit anytime."

"I just dont want you to think I'm… I don't know, abandoning you," she said, stressed out.

Derek chuckled, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. "You dont have to feel bad. I'm not going to try and stop you from doing something you feel is right. Besides, Brazil is a lot nicer around this time of year."

Cora nodded her thanks. "Until I find what I'm looking for, I'll be staying down there." she grinned. "If you need help, though, just call… unless it's another Nogitsune."

They both laughed. It was genuine laughter, but it still didn't quite manage to reach Derek's eyes. "Count me out of the next one too. I think one nogitsune in a lifetime is enough for anyone." He sat up straight, senses alert as a twig snapped nearby. They fell silent, standing slowly and turning towards the noise.

Back near the treeline, mostly hidden in shadows, two glowing red eyes stared back at them. Derek stood protectively in front of Cora, fangs jutting out as he growled low in warning. "Scott? This isnt funny!" he called angrily.

Cora put her hand on his shoulder. "Derek, that's not Scott."

Jason made sure his mask was in place one last time before lunging into the clearing with a loud roar. He was in what he called his 'werewolf mode'. He'd spent a lot of time developing a way to force his body to manifest characteristics that more closely resembled those of a werewolf. In this form, he looked exactly like a werewolf, minus the extra hair growth.

The male werewolf, Derek, sprang forward with claws extended. They met in midair and crashed to the ground, exchanging punches that would have shattered normal human bones. Jason gained the upper hand and quickly shoved Derek away as the female, Cora, rushed him. He ducked and lashed out with one foot, catching her behind the knee. She fell backwards, landing heavily on the ground. Her head hit a rock that had been half hidden by the decomposing layers of leaves. Her body went limp as she fell unconscious.

Derek roared, doubling his efforts and forcing Jason away from his sister with furious blows. Both of them landed several solid hits, both covered in gashes and streaks of blood. Jason frowned. Even as an Omega, Derek was strong and very dangerous. Still, he had little to no technique to his fighting, and would be no match for Jason's formal martial arts training.

Jason, finished with his analysis, stopped fighting like a typical, untrained werewolf. He deflected Derek's next swipe, knocking the larger man's arm wide. With a lightning fast two fingered jab, he landed a blow to the inside of the bicep, right on a nerve cluster. Derek stumbled back, more in surprise than pain as his right arm went completely limp. Seizing the opening, Jason sprang forward, moving faster than any ordinary human could ever hope to. Six jabs later, Derek fell to the ground in a twitching heap of limbs that refused to respond to his brain's commands. The effect wouldn't last very long on a werewolf, but Jason only needed a few minutes.

Jason grabbed Cora and dragged her unconscious form next to Derek, who growled at him, blue eyes smoldering with a mixture of rage and worry.

"Who are you, and what do you want with us?" gasped Derek. He was winded and in pain.

Jason ignored him, pulling four throwing knives from a cargo pocket. These he stabbed around the two siblings, at the four main compass points, connecting them with a length of slender, but strong cord. Finally, he dug in his small backpack and removed two large feathers from their leather pouch, placing one on Cora's chest, and the other on Derek's. These were his own feather's that he'd taken only a few days before. Derek squirmed, trying to bite Jason as he worked.

"What are you doing?" he yelled. He yelped as Jason hit another pressure point, but kept quiet after that, glaring daggers at Jason.

Standing at their feet, close to the southern knife, Jason brought his hands together, interlocking the fingers into a double fist, and began speaking in an obscure dialect of ancient Celtic. Very few people still knew the language, and most of them were Druids. As he spoke, his words had a very slight echo.

The feathers began to glow with a soft white-gold light, which spread to Derek and Cora. The glow grew brighter as he continued his chant, until finally, with a last, almost blinding pulse, the light faded. The feathers, knives, and cord turned to dust and faded away, everything returning to normal.

Jason crouched over Derek, studying his eyes. As he watched, the blazing ice blue faded away, replaced with the smoldering red of an Alpha. Satisfied with his work, Jason stood, taking a quick look around before sprinting off into the trees. He wanted to be far, far away by the time the paralysis wore off. He kept running for a ways, then ripped off his shirt, wings billowing out behind him, and took to the sky. Flying swiftly across town, he landed by his parked car, jumped in, and was on the road for beacon hills within minutes.

Derek groaned, arching his back involuntarily as the feeling slowly returned to his body. It felt like millions of tiny ants were walking all over, more unpleasant than painful, but definitely annoying. As soon as he could move, he was on his knees, cradling Cora's head in his lap. "Cora, wake up!" he said urgently. He patted her lightly on the face until her eyes fluttered open. "Are you okay?"

She winced, reaching up to feel the jagged cut on her scalp that had already healed over, but still hurt. "I'm fine. What happened? Did you scare him off?"

Derek shook his head. "No, he just… left. Whoever he was, he's a strong and very capable fighter. He could have killed us in seconds. Are you sure you're okay? What do you think he did to us?"

Cora sat up. "I dont know; I don't feel any different. Did something happen?" she asked. "And yes, I'm sure I'm fine." She looked over Derek's shredded and blood stained shirt. "Better than you are, that's for sure." She laughed as he growled his displeasure, the she gasped. "Derek! Your eyes!"

Derek's hands flew to his face, worried. "What? What happened?" Instead of waiting for an answer, he jumped to his feet and pulled his phone from his pocket. The screen had cracked during the fight, but he could still use it as a makeshift mirror. A pair of glowing red eyes stared back at him and he dropped the phone in shock.

Both looked at each other, feeling the same sudden shift in their status, Cora returning to Beta, and Derek as an Alpha. The unexplainable supernatural hierarchy of werewolves was still an unexplained mystery, but status was more than just a rank.

"We need to find him," said Cora.

"You'll miss your flight," said Derek.

"I don't care," she said, taking off in the direction the mysterious Alpha had gone, following his scent.


	3. Back to Beacon Hills

Chapter 2: Return to Beacon Hills

Beacon Hills was slightly larger than Jason remembered it being the last time he'd been in the area. As he drove into town, dark clouds moved in and a low hanging fog crept in from the ocean, a blanket for the town, and perfect cover for him.

Parking at the far edge of town, farthest away from the direction of Westonville, he pulled out the giant suitcase and spread his wings, taking flight into the cold winter sky. He shivered as he flew over mainstreet, soaking wet by the time he landed lightly, close to the old animal clinic. He'd landed in an alleyway, near midnight. In a town this small, there weren't many cars on the road, but he couldn't risk a 'civilian', as he called 'normal' people, seeing him.

He took a quick look around, wrapping his wings around himself for warmth, then lugged his giant suitcase after him as he dashed across the street and knocked on the clinic's front door. The sign indicated that the clinic was closed, but the lights were still on, and Jason could distinctly tell there were three people inside.

"It's open, come in!" Deaton's familiar voice, muffled by the thick glass of the door, was easily discerned by his sensitive ears. He closed his eyes, willing his ears and fangs to revert before pushing his way through the door and entering the warm, well lit waiting room.

It was pretty much the same as one would expect to find at any other medical office, though all the pictures on the walls depicted animals and the floor lacked carpet, replaced by plain concrete with a well kept drain in the middle of the floor.

Setting his burden on the floor, he swung the door shut, turning as a single set of footsteps came to greet him. "Doctor, good to see you again!"

Mr. Deaton strode forward and shook his hand, a smile fighting to take over his face. "My friend, I am very glad that you could make it." He took a step back and examined the young hawk. "You're looking healthy."

Jason chuckled, folding his wings neatly behind him. "Yeah, I- well, I was doing fairly well for myself." He shook his head in exasperation. "You would not believe how troublesome these last few months have been, though."

Deaton lost some of his cheer. "I'm sorry to have caused you so much hardship. Please believe me when I say I wouldn't have called on you if it wasn't necessary."

Jason waved his comment away. "If I wasn't able to handle it, I'd be dead. Since I'm alive…" he shrugged. "Let's just say I'm glad it's over." He toed the massive suitcase. "Everything you asked for is there. All of it… and a little something special I thought you might like."

Deaton sighed with relief. "Jason, you're a life saver. I cant tell you how much I appreciate this." He tried to lift the bag, and it came away from the floor only an inch before returning with a thud. "Scott, can you take this into the storage room for me?" He looked over his shoulder.

Two teenagers emerged from a back room and stopped dead in their tracks as they reached the waiting room. Both Scott and the other teen were staring at Jason. Scott's face held a mix between curiosity and wariness, while the other looked simply dumbfounded.

Jason bared his fangs with displeasure, his werewolf features becoming more pronounced, hiding his true face. He glared at Deaton. "I thought you wanted me to keep a low profile here, doctor."

Deaton shrugged. "Sorry, I forgot to warn you. It doesn't matter. I trust both of them as much as I trust you, Jason. Let me introduce you," said Deaton. "This is my employee, Scott McCall, and his best friend, Stiles Stilinski. Boys, this is Jason Frost."

"Pleasure," said Jason, bowing his head slightly. He could instantly tell, even before he'd seen them, that Scott was an Alpha. "It's nice to meet you both." He kept his distance though, still wary of them despite the Doctor's words.

"H-hey," said Stiles. "Nice to meet you too. You've got- You've got wings…." His gaze completely missed Jason and fixated on the wings directly behind him. "Why do you have wings?"

"Well, as at least Scott might have guessed, Jason is a werewolf-like creature, and an Alpha. Whereas Scott is a werewolf, Jason is a werehawk," said Deaton. "On top of that, he's probably one of the only Hawk-Alphas in existence, and definitely the only hawk that resides in the United States."

Stiles leaned over to Scott. "Danny would _love_ him." He shied away as Scott jabbed him with an elbow.

Jason cleared his throat. "Anyway, I brought the supplies you asked for. Your first wish is fulfilled."

Deaton arched one eyebrow. "And the second? Were you able to track down Derek Hale?"

Jason nodded wearily. He extended his left wing, showing Deaton the gap where a few days ago he'd had two feathers. Tiny nubs had already appeared where they used to be. "I didn't have to search very hard to find him, but I decided to use my own primary feathers. It'll take me a few weeks to fully regenerate."

"Wait a minute, what did you do to Derek?" asked Scott. There was a faint hint of worry in his tone. "He's okay, right?"

Deaton laughed. "He's more than okay. Jason was able to restore him to the status of Alpha." He held up a hand as Scott started asking more questions. "Later. Jason has come a long way tonight, and to top it off I had him do something that would knock a lesser man flat. He's exhausted."

"Have you decided on your third wish, yet?" asked Jason. He moved to the side and perched on the edge of a chair, wiping excess water from his skin. The short flight through the clinging fog had drenched him.

"No, not yet, but I'd like you to stick around for a few weeks," said Deaton. "I'm sure I'll be able to think of something that you can do for me soon."

"I dont know if that's a good idea," said Jason cautiously. " The longer I stay around here, the more likely people are to find me. I'm really not looking forward to that. And...I have hunters after me, and they know I'm a hawk."

Deaton shook his head. "Burgess?"

"Probably," admitted Jason. He chuckled. "They've been on my trail since I started collecting your mountain ash. I thought I was doing so well, pretending to be a full werewolf."

Stiles snorted. "Wings kind of give you away."

Deaton groaned softly in exasperation. "Stiles…."

Jason stood up and turned his back to them. Slowly, his wings vanished. When he turned back around, his eyes glowed red, fangs protruding, and claws extended. His brow was thickened, along with his nose, giving him a more animalistic look. He roared, loudly, and exactly like a werewolf. The only thing missing was the customary sideburns and excess hair common to male werewolves.

Stiles stumbled back a step, knocking into the back counter before sliding to the floor amidst a hundred loose papers he knocked off.

The rest of them laughed as he scrambled to his feet. Jason allowed his wings to sprout again, tucking them neatly behind him. "It took me a while to get the claws just right." He extended one hand, which, instead of the usual claws that werewolves had, had longer, sharper and more curved talons. He concentrated, and they shifted, looking almost exactly like Dereks or Scotts. In a fight, nobody really pays attention to how much facial hair you have."

"Right, right," said Stiles. "Can you… actually fly with those wings?"

"Let's just say that I don't buy plane tickets," said Jason. He paused. "Well, I dont usually buy plane tickets." he amended. "Work has been pretty tough lately."

"Bite me," said Stiles suddenly. Deaton and Scott looked at him in surprise. Scott's jaw dropped.

Jason shook his head. "You dont want me to bite you."

Deaton nodded in agreement. "It's not as simple as you think, Stiles."

"Huh?" said Stiles, snapping back into reality. "Why not?"

"Hawks are very rare," explained Jason. "If you look in the right history books, you'll find that the bite of a hawk is also referred to as the 'blessed bite', or the angel's mark. This is because a bite from me gives the one bitten a ninety five percent chance of living through the process. However, It only provides a five percent chance of becoming a were-hawk. If I bit a hundred people, five would die, five would become hawks, and ninety would become werewolves."

"Oh," said Stiles. he frowned. "But still-"

"It will just be a huge disappointment, and then you'll be stuck as a werewolf for the rest of your life," said Jason. "Besides," he glanced at Scott. "I'm a guest in another Alpha's territory. Even if I wanted to bite someone, I'd have to get his permission first."

"Over my dead body," said Scott. The words were almost a growl. He edged protectively in front of Stiles.

"As I said; _if_ I wanted to," said Jason. "I've never bitten anyone, and I'm not about to start now."

"Precisely," interjected Deaton. "Beacon Hills doesn't need any more werewolves right now, especially since that wonderful FBI agent is still poking his nose where it doesn't belong."

Scott groaned. "Please, don't remind me."

"For now, all of you, your families, and the Argents as well, simply need to lay low," said Deaton. "I'm especially proud of you, Scott. Tonight's the full moon and you haven't lost control once."

Scott looked genuinely surprised. "You're right! Wow."

"That aside, Scott, do you know where Jason can spend the night?" asked Deaton.

Jason crossed his arms, sitting back on his chair. "I dont want to impose on anyone, I'll just find a hotel. The fewer people who see me here the better."

Stiles chuckled. "No shirt, car, or luggage? And you just wander into the only hotel in town at way past midnight? Yeah, no one will notice."

"Stiles is right," added Scott before Jason could object. "We have an extra room at my house. You could stay at my place for tonight. But my mom probably wont like having another were...person in the house, so I can only guarantee one night."

"Like I said, I don't want to cause problems," said Jason reluctantly. "And just refer to me as a werewolf. It keeps it simple."

"I insist," said Scott. "If you dont want to cause problems, then start by not causing yourself problems." He turned to Deaton. "It's getting late, and the last day of school before winter break is tomorrow."

"Right," said Deaton. "I apologize for keeping you so late. If your dad asks, tell him you were helping me set a compound fracture tonight and we ran into some complications."

Scott shrugged. "I dont have to tell him anything. Curfew or no curfew."

Deaton patted him on the back. "Get home, get to sleep… all three of you."

He headed to his office and began shutting down the clinic as Scott and Stiles grabbed their school stuff and headed for the door. Jason followed them out to the miniature parking lot. Aside from the doctor's lexus, there was a green and white dirt bike, and a beat up blue jeep. The fog had lifted and the cloud cover was completely gone. The moon hung low across a pure black sky, with stars shining brightly in a way that could never be seen from a large city. It was also very cold. As the clouds retreated, they took the insulating layer with them, and the temperature plummeted.

Jason shivered, his wings vanishing as he stepped outside. "Stiles, can you drop Jason off at my place?" asked Scott. "My bike wont seat two." He strapped his helmet on and shouldered his backpack.

Stiles swung into his jeep and turned the key"Sure, no pro-" he paused as the jeep's engine sputtered and died, then remained silent. "Yeah, no." he amended. "Nope, I can't." He leaned back against his headrest before violently smacking the dashboard. He got out and slammed his door shut, cringing as something fell off.

"I'll take him home," volunteered Jason. he pulled on his small satchel that fit snuggly between his shoulderblades.

"You have a car?" asked Scott.

Jason flexed, sprouting wings. "It's at the edge of town."

Scott grinned. "Try not to drop him. See you in a few." He gunned his bike to life and was gone in a puff of exhaust.

"Whoa, wait a minute!" objected Stiles. "I-" his next comment turned into a shout of surprise as Jason grabbed him and leapt into the air. In seconds, Jason's powerful wing beats had them soaring over the rooftops, climbing higher into the empty sky. Birds had a tendency to give werehawks a very wide berth.

Jason frowned in concentration. Normally, carrying one, or even two people a short distance would have been no problem for him, but after a very long drive, a fight, and losing two primary feathers a few days ago, he was struggling more than he would have liked to admit. "Please tell me you don't get motion sick."

The teenager squinted against the frigid wind, blinking away tears as he struggled to get oriented. "Um…no," he yelled over the wind. "Arent you cold?"

"Freezing," replied Jason. The town fell away, becoming more scattered and spread out neighborhoods, and then solitary homes. Finally, several minutes later, he set down in the clearing where his car was parked. His wings faded and he allowed himself to transform back to full human. Stiles managed to get back on his feet as Jason unlocked his car and tossed stuff from the front passenger seat to the back. "Get in."

Stiles stood rooted in place, jaw hanging down as he stared at Jason. "No, freaking, way. You're _that_ Jason Frost?!" It was the first time he'd seen Jason as a full human.

Jason hung his head in defeat and sighed. "Do me a big favor and don't post anything on the internet… and get in the car, now."

Stiles rushed around to the other side and got in, buckling up as Jason jammed the car into gear and took off, screeching back onto the main road before zooming into town. As they reached the first of the residential neighborhoods, Jason hit a switch on the dashboard and the car fell nearly silent, switching to pure electricity to run.

"Whoa, I didn't know this model came with a hybrid option," commented Stiles.

"It doesn't," said Jason. "It's a custom feature."

Stiles shook his head, not listening. "I am sitting in Jason Frost's car…" He looked over to Jason. "Do you ever give rides to any other fans?

Jason gritted his teeth. "No. In fact, I've spent the last few years dodging cameras, fans, and paparazzi more than I have hunters, and while I don't particularly miss the hunters, I would _love_ the paparazzi to stay out of Beacon Hills while I'm here as well."

Stiles froze, then put his phone away. "I guess nobody would believe me even if I posted it on instagram anyway." He shrugged. "Dont worry, your secret is safe with me. It's not like you're the first were-, uh, person I've met. Actually, you're the last person I'd have expected to be supernatural, though your voice is good enough to be considered supernatural in my opinion."

"Where do you live?" asked Jason.

Stiles typed his address into the GPS and they continued slowly through town. "You know, Scott and I have your CD's, well, most of them, anyway. In middle school we were like, the biggest Phantom Arcanum fans. Can I have your autograph?"

"Stiles," said Jason. "I just met you, and I'd love to give you my autograph, but please, wait until tomorrow to ask me more questions. I just had a fight with a werewolf and performed an ancient Druidic ritual. On top of that, I drove for over nine hours to get here. I'm exhausted."

"Right," said Stiles. "Totally understandable." He looked out the window as they drove past a few more houses. "This is it- oh my gosh, keep driving!" He twisted around in his seat, trying to get a better look at his house as they drove past. "Stupid curfew!" he muttered.

Jason turned the corner and pulled up to the curb. "What's wrong?"

Stiles jabbed his thumb in the direction of his house. "Agent McCall, the nosy FBI guy Deaton mentioned. He's been keeping me and Scott under a tight curfew for the past few weeks, with all that's been happening here lately."

"I see," said Jason. "I guess that explains why Deaton's druid supplies have run so low."

"Can you do me a favor?" asked Stiles. "Can you fly me up to my bedroom window? I have to get inside before this whole thing turns into a mess of epic proportions."

Jason groaned. "Sure, but that sort of fancy flying will cost you." he warned.

Stiles chuckled, then his smile faded. "You're serious?" he paused. "Okay, fine. What will it cost?"

"A shirt." said Jason simply. "It's freezing! And, I'd like to at least look presentable when I get to Scott's house."

Stiles laughed, relieved. "Oh, sure. Done. Let's go."

They got out of the car and were in the air in seconds. Jason circled around, giving the house a wide berth. Then he dove, picking up considerable speed before dipping below the treeline, heading for the back of Stiles' house. They wove through the branches and thick tree trunks, dipping almost to the ground as they entered Stiles' back yard before swerving up and landing silently on the rooftop. the two story house had a wrap around porch that provided the perfect landing spot and easy access to the second floor's windows.

As Stiles eased the window up and hurried inside, Jason could clearly hear the argument going on down below.

"-last time, I'm _not_ going to wake my son up in the middle of the night just so you can chat with him!" Stiles' father was saying.

"You're a terrible liar, sheriff," Came the response. The agent, Jason guessed he was the one everyone seemed to hate, appeared to be in a very good mood. "Your son isnt even home! His Jeep isn't here. So not only is he breaking curfew, but since you're covering for him, that puts you just as much at fault!"

Jason poked his head in the window. "Stiles, you get your dad to cover for you?" he chuckled. "Judging by the car in your driveway, he's the sheriff, right?"

Stiles grimaced, quickly changed into a pair of basketball shorts and a loose t-shirt. "Normally he would never do anything like that for me, but this is a special case. More like a common enemy type situation." He tossed another shirt at Jason before 'stumbling' out his bedroom door and slowly, sleepily, making his way to the front door. Jason hopped silently over the rooftop until he was in the perfect position to listen and watch.

Seconds later, the front door opened and Stiles squinted out. "Dad? What's going on?" he asked in a perfect imitation of a sleep dazed voice. "You two are shouting loud enough to wake the dead."

"Stiles?!" his dad looked almost relieved. "I was just about to explain to special agent McCall why your jeep isn't in our driveway."

Stiles sighed. "It wouldn't start. I drove it to the animal clinic after school, but it wouldn't start when I was going to come home. I've been having problems with it ever since that freakish wind storm that blew through here a while back. I think the battery died this time."

Sheriff Stilinski gave a small smile of satisfaction. "There you go. Are you satisfied now, agent McCall?"

Agent McCall ignored him. "Stiles, I wanted to ask you a few quest-"

"Leave me alone," groaned Stiles. "I'm going back to bed. It's a freakin' school night!" He shut the door in agent McCall's face.

Mr. McCall let out an exasperated sigh. "Well, I guess that's that." He gave the front door one last look before nodding to the Sheriff. "Goodnight." He left briskly.

Jason couldn't help but grin as he watched the exchange. He made a mental note to avoid the FBI agent at all costs. He flapped his wings, hopping over the rooftop to land back by Stiles' window. As he landed, his wings vanished and he put on his borrowed shirt.

Stiles was on his bed, texting. He looked over, startled by Jason's sudden appearance. "Oh, thanks for the lift, again."

"No problem," said Jason. "The show was worth the effort. That guy's a nut."

"Here," Stiles got up and handed Jason a scrap of paper. "That's Scott's address. It's only a few blocks east of here."

"Thanks," said Jason. "I guess I'll see you later." He was about to jump off the roof when Stiles' door opened and his dad walked in.

"Stiles, thanks for the save," he said. "Perfect timing, for once."

"Gee, thanks dad," said Stiles, rolling his eyes. "But thanks for covering for me. You know I wouldn't have broken that stupid curfew unless it was important."

"Yeah, I know," he said. "I-" his hand dropped to his holstered gun as Jason, who'd been standing directly outside, moved out of sight. "Stiles, did you see something? By your window?"

"N-no," said Stiles. "What are you talking about?"

Sheriff Stilinski frowned, rubbing his eyes. "Nevermind, it's late." He yawned, headed to the door. "By the way, who were you talking to just now?"

"Me? Talking to who?" asked Stiles.

His dad held up one finger, stalking towards the window.

"Dad, there's nothing there," insisted Stiles. He held up his cell phone. "I just had a call, that's all."

Jason imagined the man thought he was being stealthy, but he heard him coming. With the ease of a gymnast, he sprang up and landed silently on the section of roof above, leaning out of sight. Down below, in a sudden rush of movement, Sheriff Stilinski popped out, gun first.

"Huh, you're right," admitted Stilinski. "Well, I guess I should go to bed. You should too; if you fail your English midterm tomorrow, you'll be seeing a lot more of this room than you'd like over winter vacation. That means no computer, no cell phone, no friends, and all your Christmas presents will be your textbooks, which I will rent from the school."

Stiles shuddered. "You're evil."

"Only when I have to be," clarified Stilinski. "Goodnight." He left, pulling the door shut behind him.

"Yeah, right," said Stiles under his breath. He looked over towards the window. "Jason?" his voice was little more than a whisper. The Were-Hawk appeared in the window. "if you take the trail that leads into the forest behind my house, it will take you right back to where you parked your car. Agent McCall's probably still out front, watching our house."

Jason nodded his thanks and silently left.


	4. The Wraith

Chapter 3: The Wraith

"And...you just invited him to stay? Here, in _my_ house," asked Melissa McCall. "A complete stranger, and_ another _werewolf!" She vented her frustration on the pineapple she'd been preparing for the next day. She still wore her scrubs, having worked the evening shift at the hospital. It had been a long night, and she'd gotten home mere minutes before Scott.

Scott sat down on one of the stools that usually remained under the kitchen counter and leaned on the granite surface. "Mom, he's a true alpha, like me. Doctor Deaton trusts him, and it's just for one night."

Melissa gathered up the rind pieces and tossed them in the trash before attacking the wedges of fruit she'd cut, reducing them to bite sized morsels. "Besides, even if he did try something, it's two against one," added Isaac, as he came down the stairs. He yawned. "Personally, it sounds like he's a nice kid."

"Well, he looks like he's a bit older than us," commented Scott. "About Derek's age, maybe."

Melissa sighed. "Fine, you win. One night, and one night only." she jumped slightly as someone knocked softly at the front door. She gestured to Scott, cleaning her hands as he went through the kitchen and living room to answer the door.

"Good, this was the right house," said Jason with relief. "As good eyesight as I have, I still had trouble reading your friend's handwriting." He extended one hand, clasping Scott's in a firm shake.

Scott snorted. "Typical. Come on in. What took you so long?" He opened the door wider and let Jason past.

Jason entered after carefully removing his shoes and placing them on the porch with the other shoes left in a jumbled pile. He chuckled. "I had to wait for your wonderful FBI agent to finish poking around."

He looked over as a woman entered the living room, followed by another young man.

"Oh, yeah," said Scott. "Mom, this is Jason Frost. Jason, this my mother, Melissa McCall, and Isaac Lahey, who is also staying with us."

"A pleasure," said Jason. He shook their hands as well. "Thank you very much for your hospitality."

Melissa smiled politely. "Just to make this perfectly clear, this is only for-"

"Tonight," finished Jason. "I understand. I have no desire to impose myself on your household. If it would make you more comfortable, I will lodge elsewhere."

"No, no," said Melissa. "Scott offered you a place to stay for tonight. I can honor that."

Jason nodded. "Many thanks."

"Your room is across the hall from Scott's," she said. "Isaac will show you." She watched him disappear upstairs after the other werewolf. Turning back to Scott, she frowned. "For the love of… Scott, you never told me he was so good looking!" she said quietly. "It's like he walked out of a magazine." She frowned, making her way over to their entertainment center.

Scott sputtered. "Mom, he's way too young for you!"

Melissa laughed. "I know that, but in case you haven't noticed, I seem to have developed a soft spot for handsome young men who cause me an awful lot of trouble." She dug through the piles of CD's and her hands emerged triumphantly with a Phantom Arcanum album.

Scott hugged her. "Thanks mom."

"He _did_ walk out of a magazine!" she stated, staring at the cover. "Scott, you never told me we were hosting a celebrity!"

"Wait a minute, you're serious?" said Scott. He grabbed the case and compared the image to what he'd seen of Jason's real face. "You're right, it _is_ him. Wow."

"Now get to bed," she ordered. "You have more important things to worry about. If you fail your english test tomorrow, I might let Mr. Argent practice his previous occupation on you."

Scott's face drained of color. "That's too evil for you, mom."

Melissa narrowed her eyes, grabbing her son's ear. She gave it a twist and slowly led him to the foot of the stairs. "Try me."

"Ow, ow, ow," said Scott as she pulled him along. "Okay, you win!" She let go and he bolted up the stairs.

"Goodnight!" she called.

The next morning came quickly, leaving Jason more exhausted than he thought possible. He knew this was exactly why Deaton had insisted he stay for a few weeks; so he could recover in a relatively safe environment. He not only had to recover from his exploits the night before, but also from pulling two of his primary feathers a few days ago.

To be honest, he didn't want to wake up. The bed was more comfortable and inviting than anything.

He cracked one eye open as someone, probably Scott's mom, banged on the door across the hall. He rolled out of bed, landing on the carpeted floor with a solid thump. Even the carpet felt nice. Isaac poked his head in from the bathroom that joined their two rooms. "Dude, you okay?"

Jason slowly got to his feet and yawned. "Yeah, fine. Just wishing I could sleep for a few more days."

He yawned again as Melissa pounded on his door. "You too, Jason! School starts in half an hour, and I have to leave for work. Dont make me late!"

Isaac snickered. "That was fast. It took her two weeks before she started bossing me around."

Jason shrugged and rubbed his eyes. "You done in there?"

Isaac ran his hands through his unruly brown hair one last time. "Yeah, all yours man." He retreated into his own bedroom, closing the door behind him.

The shower, brief as it was, felt nice, obliterating the crippling lethargy that plagued him. His wings sprouted, and he spent several minutes carefully washing them, inspecting them as he did so. Tiny nubs had appeared where his two missing feathers had been. It would take time, but they would soon grow into new primary feathers.

He shut off the water and towelled dry before returning to his room, stretching his wings out to help them dry fast. In the sunlight they were a shade of brown, not quite dark, but almost. More the color of caramel. On his bed was a stack of clothing that looked like they belonged to Scott. A pair of denim jeans and a short sleeved t-shirt, along with a green hooded jacket that went well with Jason's eyes.

Fully dressed and human again, he headed downstairs. As he entered the kitchen he saw Scott zoom away on his green and white dirt bike, with Isaac trailing behind him on a regular mountain bike. Mrs. McCall was on the phone.

"Like I said, If I could substitute today, I would," she was saying, "but the hospital is already understaffed, and I have to supervise the nurse interns today. Is there anyone else you can call?"

Jason frowned. "What subject?" he asked quietly.

'English' She mouthed.

Jason perked up. "I can do it," he volunteered. "I have a bachelors degree in High School level English teaching."

Mrs. McCall's eyes brightened. "Pam, hang on. I have a young guest in my home who has an english degree." she covered the mouthpiece. "Have you ever substituted before?"

Jason shook his head. "No, but I'm fully certified to teach in the state of California, and I was a teacher's intern for a few months-"

"Perfect," she cut him off, returning her attention to the phone call. "I'll drive him over as soon as I can." she hung up the phone. "You weren't lying, were you?"

Jason placed his backpack on the table and carefully pulled out a folder of papers. Melissa recognized some, like the birth certificate and social security card. Then he pulled out a folded piece of paper from the stack. It was his English degree and teachers' certification.

"Wow," she said. "Actor, multi-record song artist, english teacher… That's quite the resume." she looked them over. "You just carry those papers with you?"

Jason shrugged. "Only when I'm in between homes. Normally, I have them hanging on the wall or in a bank vault, but since I didn't know where I'd end up this time, I decided to keep them close at hand."

"That's right, you're a werewolf," she frowned. "Does that mean Scott won't ever be able to live a normal life?" she asked worriedly. "That _is_… what keeps you bouncing from place to place, right?"

"To a certain extent," said Jason slowly. He sat at the kitchen table, returning his papers to his bag. "Scott will never be able to live a 'normal life', but it's possible to work around the shortcomings to the point that he can live an_ almost_ normal life. As for me, this time it was Doctor Deaton's request that put me on the Hunter's radar, and my family has always had trouble with a specific family of hunters. One slip up and they find us."

Melissa finished getting ready and disappeared into one of the spare rooms, returning a minute later with a pair of slacks, a button up shirt and a tie. "Here. You might want to look a bit more professional today."

He took the clothing and was changed in minutes, meeting her outside in her car. They drove down the tree lined streets in silence. As they pulled up to the small high school, she looked over at him. "If you don't mind me asking, what was Deaton's request, and why would you do it if it put you in danger?"

"I don't mind," said Jason. "This is probably a story for another time, but I'll give you the short version." he paused, struggling for words. "A while back, I was almost killed by a group of hunters, an ancient family, who were after something very precious to my family. They murdered my parents and my older brother. I was nearly dead, but Deaton saved me. He chased the hunters off and saved my life. In return, I gave him three wishes. I promised to do anything and everything within my power to grant the wishes, even if it puts me at risk."

Melissa nodded. "Kind of risky, i mean, what if Deaton had turned out to be a rotten guy?"

Jason chuckled. "If he were rotten, he wouldn't have saved me. Besides, i don't give out wishes to people of lousy character."

"Alright, one more question, then I'll let you go," she said. "What did he wish for?"

"He wished for a large quantity of various herbs and other things he uses to practice the more supernatural parts of his occupation," answered Jason. "He said his supplies were running dangerously low and he needed more to keep a young pack of werewolves alive."

Melissa cringed. "Was it really that bad?"

Jason shrugged. "I didn't ask for details. The second wish was for me to heal a few people. That one was tough, but I did it."

"And the third?"

"Has yet to be wished," finished Jason. He got out of the car and closed the door softly. the window rolled down. "Thank you for everything, Mrs. McCall."

Melissa bit her lower lip, then called after him as he walked away. "Jason, if you'd like… you're welcome to stay in the spare room, as long as you plan on staying, in Beacon Hills, I mean."

Jason nodded. "Thank you. You're a very kind person. I'll see you tonight, then."

"Just… watch over Scott," she said softly. "And his friends. Especially Stiles. A lot of very weird things have happened recently."

"I'll do my best to keep tabs on them," said Jason. "I'll keep an eye out." he promised.

"Thank you," she said, sounding a little bit more relieved. "See you after school." Jason waved as she drove off, then headed inside as the bell rang. The sky was overcast and fog billowed through the town, but the was getting brighter, promising to burn it off later that day.

Stiles practically ran into his English classroom at a dead sprint, arriving right before the bell rang. He slumped against the wall with relief. Across the room, Scott gave him an odd look.

"Mister Stilinski, nice of you to join us," said a familiar voice. Stiles looked to the front of the packed classroom, and felt his jaw hit the floor. Standing at the front of the room, behind the podium, was Jason Frost. He was dressed in a long sleeved shirt and tie, and wore a pair of non-prescription glasses. The outfit, plus his styled hair made him look just different enough to keep anyone who didn't know him to guess that he was _that_ Jason Frost, at least at first glance.

Jason gave an almost invisible smirk, before indicating the last open seat. "Please be seated." He turned to face the entire class. "As you are well aware, today is the last day of class, and the day you take your midterm exam." The class groaned, even though they knew it was coming. "I regret to inform you that your usual teacher, Mr. Buccard, was unable to be here. I do not know the reason. My name is Mr. Frost." He shuffled his papers and began passing out the tests.

"You have sixty minutes to complete this exam. If any of you finish early, you may turn in your papers and go. As a reminder, no electronic gadgets may be used during this exam. If I see anyone with their phone or other device out and on, they will receive a zero, with no chance of make up." He held up one hand as the class groaned. "However, as a special reward for all your hard work, Mr. Buccard has made this test… open book."

"You may begin," said Jason. He returned to his desk and booted up the teacher's computer. Even though he was only a substitute, he had a mountain of end of semester paperwork that needed to be done in the actual teacher's absence. He'd barely started, when a young woman in the front row gasped quietly. He looked over the top of the monitor at her, eyes widening in surprise. Her skin was the palest white, and her lips were turning a light blue. Wrapped around her neck, were a pair of hands belonging to a shadowy, almost see through creature. It was built like a man shrouded in a billowing cloak, but had no substance.

Scott and Stiles were staring at the apparition, uncertain of what they were seeing. None of the other students noticed, and Jason doubted they could see anything at all. The girl's eyes were wide with fear and her mouth was open, as if she were trying to scream.

Jason brought his hands together, making several deliberate hand motions before standing, muttering under his breath in ancient celtic. "Repel." he said softly. the word left his mouth with the barest of echos. The creature seemed to shimmer and warp, then burst apart into a million tiny pieces and fading away. The young woman gasped for breath, bursting into tears as she tried to breathe.

Jason came around the desk breathing a bit harder from his Druidic spell, and knelt by the young woman. "Are you okay?" He checked her pulse quickly. Under his fingers, her skin was ice cold. She shook her head back and forth, unable to speak. She was one step away from hyperventilating, and on the verge of absolute panic. Other students were looking at her now, some with concern, others with confusion.

Jason stood, clearing his throat. "Class, please continue your exams to the best of your ability," said Jason. "Mister McCall. Please help me escort Ms. Martin to the infirmary. She's having a nervous breakdown. I will extend your exam time limit to compensate accordingly."

Scott was on his feet and by Lydia's side in an instant, helping her to her feet and following Jason from the classroom. They hurried down the hall, took the stairs down and found an empty classroom. Lydia was shaking uncontrollably with cold, and her skin continued to lose color, except around her neck, which now had two hand shaped bruises that created an unbroken ring.

"What's happening to her?" asked Scott frantically. "What was that thing?"

"Shut the door," said Jason. As Scott did so, Jason helped Lydia to a chair.

"It wasn't an Oni, was it?" asked Scott. "But she's reacting to it just like she did to an Oni."

"Heal first, think later!" Jason snapped. He pulled his sleeves up and stood behind her, placing his hands lightly on her shoulders. Black lines appeared under Lydia's skin, easily seen against her pallid complexion. A few seconds later, the lines reversed course and turned a gold color, shining along the lengths of Jason's arms and flowing into Lydia. Scott gasped as the bruising faded and her normal color returned. A few minutes later, Jason's hands dropped to his sides and he staggered back, collapsing into a chair, breathing hard and trembling.

Scott looked from Lydia to Jason. "What was _that?"_

"Hawks can transfer their healing ability to other people through direct contact," said Jason. "That burned me out though; I wont be able to heal myself for a few hours."

Lydia shuddered, looking at Scott, but not quite seeing him. "Scott… something terrible is coming… something big." Her eyes focused and she jumped up from her seat and into his arms, hugging him tightly.

"It's okay, Lydia," he whispered quietly. "You're safe now. Whatever that thing was, it's not coming back."

She bawled, soaking his shirt with her tears before managing to compose herself, wiping her face dry. "Scott, I-I'm sorry. It's just with all that's happened, an-and Alison, I...I…"

Scott swallowed the lump that formed in his throat, blinking rapidly to hold back his own tears. "Lydia, we all lost a good friend. Dont try to shoulder the grief all on your own. We're all here for you, and you need to be there for us when we need you. You, me, Stiles, Isaac, Derek, and especially Mr. Argent. Promise?"

She nodded.

Jason cleared his throat. "I'm going to check the school for more of those things. Will you be okay?"

"We'll be fine," said Scott for both of them. "Now, let's get that test done so we can get out of here faster."

Jason watched them go, then made a quick circuit around the campus, but found nothing. Whatever that creature had been, it was gone, and there was no trace of where it came from.

He returned to his classroom, remaining calm and collected. Students looked at him, hoping for an explanation, but returned to their tests, mostly satisfied that he didn't seem flustered or concerned. He kept a sharp lookout for anything supernatural, but found nothing. As the last student left, Jason gathered up the tests, graded them, and headed for the office to submit the students' final semester grades.


	5. Brothers

Chapter 4: Twins

Jason left the campus in the early evening after doing his paperwork. The principal had offered him a job on the spot, but he politely declined, stating he did not know how long he planned on staying in the area. Apparently the events of the past few semesters had the remaining staff worried. Two teachers had died, and one seriously wounded. The school was having trouble finding anyone willing to fill the vacancies.

The sun sank lower, resting just above the tree tops and casting an orange glow on everything. He carried a small briefcase, full of the post semester paperwork that all teachers had to submit. Jason had agreed to do it in place of Mr. Buccard, who had submitted his resignation earlier that day. Jason gathered that several other teachers were also seriously considering the same thing. It would keep Jason busy for a while.

Jason made it to the main street, only a few miles from the school. It was an easy and enjoyable walk for him. He walked into the local AT&T store and walked out with a new cell phone. Since cell phones could easily be traced, he tried to change his phone every few months. He kept the same phone card and number, because it was too tedious with his work if he switched it too often.

In interest of self preservation, he also had his credit cards and account numbers randomized quarterly, to prevent anyone from tracking him through purchasing history. It was a habit he'd picked up from his late parents, and he'd personally seen no purpose for it, until his last encounter with the Burgess family. Now he stuck to the habit as if paranoid and they hadn't managed to track him down again since..

Down the street a little ways, past a few small family restaurants, was a small shopping strip that had several locally owned clothing stores. He stopped here and purchased a large suitcase, filling it with enough clothes to last him a week or two. His trip was never intended to last more than one or two days, but he should have known that Deaton had other ideas. He browsed from store to store, buying thinks he thought were interesting or useful. For a small town, without even a Wal-Mart, Beacon Hills was surprisingly well equipped.

His shopping done, he headed towards Scott's house, taking the long scenic route, and just enjoying the feeling of being free, without having to look over his shoulder to see if anyone was watching him or pointing a gun in his direction.

As if to prove him wrong, as soon as the thought crossed his mind, the wind shifted. He paused as the scent of unfamiliar werewolves filled his nose. He'd gotten a strong lock on Scott's and Isaac's scents, but these weren't them, and they were strange. Both scents were almost identical. If Jason hadn't had such acute senses, he'd have assumed there was only one. Pretending to look at a map to find his bearings, he slowly circled, looking around while pretending to look for street signs. He was in a small residential neighborhood only a few blocks from Scott's house, standing on the corner of a four way intersection.

As he looked around, he saw two faint outlines, hidden mostly in the trees. Even with his hawk-like eyes, he would have missed it, but he caught a faint reflection of the fading sunlight from a wristwatch. Pretending not to have seen his followers, he returned his map and kept walking at the same unconcerned pace, though changing his direction. His followers kept pace with him as he returned to town, heading for the animal clinic.

He made it inside without incident, dropping his luggage on the floor and sighing with relief. The well lit clinic was empty of customers.

"Something wrong, Jason?" Deaton's voice floated out of the main operating room, muffled slightly from the mask he wore during surgery.

"No, not really," he said. "I just picked up a few followers about fifteen minutes ago. They smelled like werewolves. And the strange thing was, their scents were almost identical. I've never come across that before."

"Ethan and Aiden," said Deaton. He cleared his throat. "Hey Scott, didn't you say the twins had left a few weeks ago?"

Scott came out of the cat room, carrying a bag of trash. "Yeah, I thought they did. They haven't been at school, and I haven't seen them around in quite some time." He tossed the trash out, then returned and joined Jason in the waiting room, fidgeting.

"Anyway," continued Deaton. "They used to be part of the Alpha pack until it disbanded and the Darach killed them. They have this ability to merge into a super werewolf thing. The darach killed that and I managed to save the twins, but they lost their alpha status."

Jason raised one eyebrow as Scott continued to fidget. "You want to know?"

Scott nodded. "I've been dying since class ended."

"You scored a solid A on your exam," said Jason. "Your midterm raised your grade to an eighty-one. You passed the semester with a B minus."

Scott leapt to his feet and cheered, pumping his fist into the air. He grabbed Jason and pulled him into a hug. "You're the best substitute ever!"

"Scott, keep it down!" called Deaton. "I'm concentrating here!"

Scott returned to his seat. "Sorry!" He called. "I just found out that my mom's actually _not_ going to kill me." Deaton chuckled.

Jason looked up as the twins entered. They stood side by side, staring at Jason as they would prey. As one, they transformed into full werewolves and crouched, roaring threateningly, eyes flashing a dangerous blue.

In one fluid motion, Jason stood, transforming into his own werewolf mode, eyes blazing red. His roar drowned out the twins' and the twins stopped, shocked. They flinched, stumbling backwards, smacking up against the back wall in surprise. They weren't quite cowering, but they definitely were visibly shaken and no longer so willing to attack.

Scott stepped between the twins and Jason and the three of them slowly reverted to human form. Jason returned to his seat, eyes still red. He stayed very alert, watching for the slightest hint of movement from the twins. "Doctor Deaton was just telling me about the two of you." said Jason.

"You're an Alpha," stated Aiden. "Where's your pack?"

"I dont have a pack," said Jason. "Nor did I have a pack and then _murder_ them. I travel alone." The twins flinched as if from a physical blow; Jason's words hit them hard. "What are two Omegas like yourselves doing in an Alpha's territory?" he continued, glaring at them. "Especially with the reputations the two of you have."

They cringed, looks of guilt and shame covering their faces. Neither of them would meet Jason or Scott's eyes. "We were out searching for a new pack to take us in," said Ethan, "but we haven't found one yet."

"We came back to Beacon Hills because we knew that Scott at least wouldn't throw us out if we lay low," added Aiden, addressing Scott more than Jason.

"You don't mind if we stay awhile, do you," asked Ethan. Both he and his brother looked desperate, finally looking up at Scott.. "We literally have nowhere else to go, Scott."

Scott hesitated, then nodded reluctantly, looking to Deaton. "Just don't ask to stay at my place." he said. "Me, you two, Jason, Isaac and Peter, if he's still around. Six werewolves and three Alphas. What could go wrong?"

Jason stood, gathering up his things. "I should probably get going." He raised his voice. "Sorry for intruding, Doctor. Let me know if you learn more about that thing that attacked Lydia. I hope your patient makes a full recovery." Deaton emerged from the back room as Jason was almost to the door.

"Oh, he will, and you'll be the first to know if I do," he said, pulling off his bloodied gloves. "Jason, stay for a minute, though. I just thought of something you can do for me."

Jason turned, invisibly fast, fully transformed. He growled in warning. "No." His eyes smoldered dangerously.

Deaton smiled in amusement. "You dont even know what I was about to ask for." He tossed his gloves in the trash.

Jason set his suitcase down and slowly managed to regain his human form, as Scott stepped protectively between him and Deaton. Jason's claws disappeared and his ears rounded. Only his teeth remained slightly pointed. "I know you well enough to make an educated guess, Deaton. Do _not_ do this to me."

"It's for your own good, Jason," said Deaton. "And it will do a lot of good for many other people. Trust me." He looked Jason in the eye, unflinching. Scott and the twins looked back and forth in confusion. "Jason, I wish that you take Aiden and Ethan in as members of your pack. I will draw up a contract for you later; There will be no loopholes."

Jason's features shifted to his fully pronounced werewolf form and he shook slightly with barely contained rage. Scott took a hurried step back in shock at Jason's sudden change in temperament, and the twins quickly edged away. With a last, scorching look at Deaton, Jason left, slamming the door behind him so hard Scott thought it might shatter. Scott, Aiden, Ethan, and Deaton all flinched as they heard an impossibly loud, and angry roar, more like thunder than anything else.

Deaton slowly let out the breath he'd been holding, slumping against the counter with relief. "He is definitely _not_ happy."

Ethan recovered from his shock first, brow furrowing. "Wh-What just happened?"

"The short version?" asked Deaton. He chuckled. "I'm trying to give you a second chance. I just got you two the best Alpha in the world." He glanced at Scott. "No offense." Scott shrugged indifferently and Deaton motioned the twins to the counter. He lay out two pieces of paper. "Read this contract and sign it."

As they read, Scott frowned. "Wait a minute. You can just… order him around like that?"

Deaton shook his head. "Not anymore. Jason gave me three wishes when I saved his life years ago. I just used the last one."

"You think he'll keep his word?" asked Aiden doubtfully.

"Absolutely," said Deaton with conviction. "You'll learn as you get to know him that Jason is… fiercely loyal. Once you are in his pack, you are under his protection. He will protect you with his life, for life. He will provide for you to the best of his abilities, teach you to the extent of his knowledge, and give you the tools you'll need to survive. In effect, he adopts you, like family."

Ethan and Aiden exchanged glances. "And, when we've reached the point of surpassing him?" asked Aiden.

Deaton laughed. "That'll be the day." He tapped the paper's they'd signed. "Read the contract. Jason assumes responsibility for you until A, I release him from his duty, B, you two reach the rank of Alpha in his care, or C, he dies."

"Wait a minute," said Ethan. "What do you mean, reach the rank of Alpha?"

Deaton smiled. "That's the unique thing about Hawk-Alphas, like Jason. If you belong to one, they have a certain way of healing the soul. It's not easy, and can be very, very painful, but they can restore your eyes to those of a true-beta, and by effect, give you another shot at true-alpha. Hawks are very interesting creatures."

The twins looked at each other in shock. Neither could put words to how they felt at the moment.

"Oh," added Deaton. "As additional incentive not to try and kill Jason, as you did your previous alpha, His alpha status does not transfer even if you do kill him, another unique thing about Hawk-Alphas."

"Then how did he become one?" asked Aiden.

"His mother gave him her Alpha status when she died. It wouldn't have worked if Jason didn't have the qualities of a true Alpha. She just sped up the process a bit," said Deaton. " Anyway, Jason is one of the best Alphas I've ever known."

Jason's rage led him out and away from town, deep into the forest and off the beaten track. He didnt want to be near anyone, just to be safe. He found a quiet place on a large boulder that jutted out over a wide, winding river. It was shallow, and small islands of rocks emerged near the center of the slowly flowing water. They were made up of thousands of stones with scarce vegetation sprouting out in odd patches. Here he sat and meditated, reflecting on the events that had transpired.

His anger was not normal for him. He was affected to some extent by the were-blood in him, but he'd never lost his cool to the point that he was stuck transformed, as he was now; not even on the night of a full moon. As it was, his eyes still blazed red, and his ears and fangs were fully pronounced, as were his claws. He'd barely managed to keep his wings in check.

It took him several hours of cooling down before he finally regained full control and was able to revert to full human. The illogical rage wasn't so much from being forced to play Alpha to two Omegas, but from the fact that he was no longer free to fly wherever he chose. It was the act of binding himself to a location that seemed to be contrary to a more inherent instinct, something that had to do with being a hawk. Supernatural aside, how was he supposed to play caretaker to a pack when he still had a career in Southern California?

The quiet trickle of water was soothing to him, to the point that he could put his thoughts in order. Notwithstanding his initial reaction, he knew he'd have to grant Deaton's wish, which meant he would be staying in Beacon Hills a lot longer than he'd originally anticipated. Lance wouldn't be happy to hear that. That said, he'd have to acquire a house, and a job to support his new pack. Ethan and Aiden looked about seventeen, and Scott had mentioned they'd attended high school for a while.

Money wasn't an issue for him. He got all he'd ever need from his parents personal fortune when they'd been killed. It wasn't huge, but it was more than enough for a single person to live lavishly for a good long while. That had been six years ago now. Since that time, Jason had thrown himself into his studies, finishing high school and attending college, in addition to his singing and acting careers.. He'd mostly tried to forget what had happened, as sort of a defensive method. It hadn't really worked, but the hole in his heart had healed somewhat, and he'd woken up one day to find he had a degree and his name on the credits of a Disney movie. Between his parents' life insurance and government grants, he hadn't had to pay a penny for his education, and thanks to his frugal lifestyle, almost everything he earned just added to his parents' wealth...his wealth. That was where he'd been when Deaton contacted him, asking for his wishes.

Jason's eyes shot open as the sharp crack of a gunshot echoed through the woods, interrupting his chain of thought. He was on his feet and bounding across the wide river towards the disturbance almost before he knew what he was doing. He shifted to his full werewolf mode, dropping to all fours as he ran. He ripped his shirt off and ditched the impossible dress shoes that he'd worn to look more 'professional' as he substituted that day.

The scuffle, more of a chase, was moving quickly. His hearing could pick up one lighter set of footsteps sprinting away, followed by two or three heavier sets. Changing direction to intercept, he sped up to a full sprint, closing the distance fast.

Jason burst into a large clearing, on a small hill overlooking a tiny ravine. One glance revealed everything to his sharp hawk's gaze. A single man, armed with several handguns, was retreating from a small group of blue-eyed werewolves, three of them. He shot at them, keeping them from getting too close.

The armed man stumbled back, tripping over a tree root. He landed hard on his back, gun flying out of his hand. Seizing the moment of weakness, the leading werewolf lunged for the kill.

Jason sprinted down the hill with an almost deafening roar and launched himself at the attacking werewolf. His claws morphed to talons and he slashed, opening up long, deep gashes from abdomen to shoulder. Blood spewed from the wounds and the werewolf flew back from the sheer force of the blow, collapsing to the ground. The wounds were serious, but not fatal. Jason landed in a protective crouch right in front of the human, flinging the gun back within his arm's reach.

The two other werewolves attacked, raking their claws at Jason. He responded in kind, knocking one down, then planting a solid kick to the second's side. He heard and felt several ribs crack under the blow. Both of them staggered away, struggling to remain fully werewolf.

The two other werewolves pulled up short, unsure of what to do. Their leader slowly eased his way to his feet, spitting blood. He glowered at Jason. "First we have a hunter protecting Omegas, and now we have an Alpha protecting a hunter. Our fight is not with you; just with those Omegas who are cowering in this town."

Jason roared even louder. "Any business you have with them, you have with me!" his voice permeated the clearing with the unique resonance of an Alpha. "Or have you forgotten that when you attack a Beta it's the same as if you've attacked their Alpha?"

The werewolves backed away a pace, blood draining from their faces. Jason could smell the fear radiating from them. The injured one, who obviously had more backbone than the others, sneered. "Do you even know what they've _done?_ What kind of low class Alpha would take _them _as Betas?"

Jason stood to his full height, features changing slightly as he entered his werehawk state. His wings appeared, flapping once, sending debris flying in all directions. His form glowed softly in the moonlight. "An Alpha…" he said, voice changing to the flowing, melodic sound he produced when singing, "...who focuses on what they could be, instead of what they currently are."

Their jaws hit the floor. All three werewolves stared at Jason with a mixture of awe and fear. The lead Omega growled, furious. "You would deny me my revenge, hawk?"

"Would you deny me my birthright?" countered Jason. "You will have your revenge, Omega; though it will not end in the twins' deaths."

The Omega held Jason's gaze for a long moment, then glanced away in submission. "Very well. I leave their fate to you, Werehawk."

"Leave in peace," said Jason. "Do not return." he strode forward suddenly, extending one talon. He placed it on the lead Omega's chest, and a brief second later, the gaping wounds slowly began the healing process.

They backed away from Jason warily, reaching the edge of the clearing before turning tail and running away as fast as they could. Jason watched them go, returning to his human form. He was about to walk away, when he heard the sizzling crackle of a stun rod. The blast that came next sent him sprawling to the ground in a twitching heap. He grimaced in pain, crawling away from the hunter. The man hit him again, effectively pinning him in place. Jason's arms and legs simply would not respond.

"Explain. Who are you?" he demanded, raising the baton to Jason's throat.

"My n-name is J-jason," Jason managed between convulsions. He squeezed his eyes shut, growling softly. The wave of pain passed and he slumped, completely drained.

"What are you doing in Beacon Hills?" asked the hunter.

"Doctor Deaton asked me to come," said Jason. "I owed him a few favors. I assume you know him?

The man nodded. "I do. Why did you step in to save my life? I dont know any werewolves who would step in to save a hunter." Jason's body spasmed suddenly, bumping his neck against the baton.

Jason yelped, shying away from the pain. "I didn't know… you were a…. hunter!" he gasped, taking deep, shuddering breaths. "I just saw…. werewolves attacking a human… I had to…. to stop them."

The man withdrew the baton, placing it in its rolled over onto his side. "Would that knowledge have changed your decision?"

"Have you tried to kill me before?" asked Jason.

The man looked at him in surprise. "I dont think so."

"Then no," jason shrugged. "Until you harm me, or my family, you're just another human, not an enemy."

The man nodded, extending his hand. He waited until Jason tentatively grasped it, then hauled him to his feet, keeping him steady until he could stand under his own power. "My name is Chris Argent."

Jason couldn't help it, his blood ran cold for a split second at the sound of his name. He shuddered, then shook the hunter's hand. "Jason Frost."

Chris squinted at his face in the low lighting. "No way. You're the guy who starred in Darklight?"

Jason snorted. "I was a supporting character. That's hardly star status."

Chris laughed. "Now I'm really glad I didn't have to kill you. I'd be murdered by teenage girls before I could stand trial."

Jason chuckled, the movement filling his stomach with a dull ache. "I guess I'll see you around. Looks like I might be staying in Beacon Hills for a while."

Chris nodded, picking his gun up and holstering it. "Thanks, Jason. For saving my life."

Jason paused, wings appearing. "I have the feeling that you would have done the same." He took a few steps, getting out from under the trees. He looked back at Chris. "Like that Omega indicated. We don't exactly follow the common stereotypes, do we?" With one last nod, he leapt into the sky, circling higher before soaring off towards the McCalls' home.

Jason barely made it back, fully healed, but sore in ways he'd never experienced before. He staggered inside, making his way up to his borrowed room and nearly passing out on his bed. Mrs. McCall was there almost immediately, dragging the story out of him piece by piece as she bandaged him up. She finally let him sleep, as soon as she was satisfied that nobody was in imminent danger for the night.

The next morning came a lot faster than he would have liked, but his mind was fully committed to his new plan. As he had said the night before, he would take the twins in... not that he liked it much yet. He knew this would be a sore subject with Deaton for several weeks to come at least. When the sun rose from the east, he got up and headed back into town, using his car this time, going straight for a realtor's office.


	6. Getting Settled

Chapter 5: Getting Settled

Melissa McCall placed a large platter of eggs on the kitchen table and cleared her throat. "Scott, Isaac! Breakfast is ready!" She knew she didn't need to yell, not with two werewolves in the house, but sometimes her yelling was the only thing that could get the two lazy teens to move faster than a snail.

Scott managed to stumble down the stairs first, rubbing sleep from his eyes. "Good morning, mom."

"More like 'good afternoon' " she checked her watch. "In about twenty minutes. I worked the night shift, and I'm still up earlier than you! Just because it's winter break does not give you permission to be couch potatoes!"

Scott sat in his chair and began piling food onto his plate. "You know what, you're absolutely right." he said resolutely. "I did promise I would be better this semester, didn't I?"

"You did," agreed Melissa. "All things considered, you haven't done half bad."

"I don't see why I cant keep it going all year," said Scott. He looked at his mom. "Just promise me one thing."

"No more tattoos, and no car until you're a senior," said Melissa. "I won't budge."

Scott laughed. "I wasn't actually going to bring that up. I want you to promise me that you'll do the same thing. Particularly in the relaxing and dating areas. I still feel bad about ruining your last date, even though it was for a really, _really_ good reason. Just don't date psychotic werewolves, please."

Melissa smiled. "With two psychotic werewolves in the house, who needs more?" Scott groaned at her bad joke. "Okay, I promise, as long as you don't make comments about who I choose to date."

"Done," said Scott. He covered his ears as Melissa drew in a deep breath.

"Isaac!" she yelled. A minute later, the young werewolf came down the stairs and into the kitchen, more like a zombie than anything else. Melissa gave herself a satisfied smile as she loaded some freshly toasted bread onto her own plate and took her seat. "By the way, have you seen Jason? He didn't leave already, did he? If he were human, that boy would be black and blue from head to toe."

Scott shook his head. "No, he had, ah, some issues he needed to take care of. Why, did something happen?"

Melissa's fork clanged on her plate. "Okay, what did you do?" she asked, ignoring his question.

Scott looked at her in surprise. "Me? What did I-? You automatically assume I did something to make him upset?"

Melissa narrowed her eyes. "Did you?"

"No," said Scott. "Deaton did." He shifted under her gaze. "Deaton's making Jason take care of the twins, Aiden and Ethan. He used his last wish to kind of force Jason to form a pack and stay in the area."

"Oh," she said. "That's a low blow. And how did he take that?"

Scott grimaced. "Probably a lot better than Derek or I would have. Even so, he was furious."

"He didn't hurt anyone, though," asked Melissa. "Right?"

Scott nodded. "No, he's got himself under tight control, a lot better than even Derek. Aiden followed him for a while last night and found him meditating by the river." Scott frowned. "Funny, he didn't seem as worried when he came back. I wonder what happened?"

They ate without much conversation until just about all the food had been consumed. "Scott, take care of the leftovers, and then get ready. Your father wanted to stop by and see you today." said Melissa.

Scott groaned. "And you said he could?!" he accused.

Melissa laughed. "Honey, I have to. I dont like it much either, but the court said he has the right to visit you, and I'm not going to turn him away." She shook her head. "If you dont want to talk to him, then you'll have to say so yourself...again, and again...and again." she added dryly.

Scott got up and took his dishes to the sink. "Thanks for the heads up, I guess."

Melissa headed for the door. "I'm working the day shift, so I'll be home around fiveish. Love you, don't burn the house down." Then she was gone. Scott watched the car pull out of the driveway while finishing the dishes and loading them into their old dishwasher, then scooped the rest of the food into containers for the refrigerator.

"You know, as awful as it sounds," said Isaac. "I'm kinda glad my dad's gone." He finished his breakfast and helped straighten up the kitchen.

"It's not like I wish my dad were dead," said Scott. "I just wish he'd leave me alone for once." he bagged up the trash and prepared to take it outside. "Especially now that he's officially overstayed his welcome in this town."

The realtor's office was stuffy and filled with lots of pink. It looked more like a tea room than an office, and the lady behind the main desk could have been pulled out of a Pride and Prejudice remake, complete with delicate hat.

She looked at him with judgemental eyes as he sat down in one of the creaky metal folding chairs that sat opposite of her. He'd had a chance to shower and change, renting a hotel room that morning, and now was dressed in a nice pair of black jeans and a matching button up shirt. "Can I help you dear?" she asked politely, her words precise and delicate, a product of finishing school. Up close she looked to be almost seventy.

"I hope so, madam," said Jason. "I would like to purchase a home, here in Beacon Hills. Do you have any properties available?"

She gave him a kind smile. "My, you are a polite young man. Yes, we have several properties that may suit your needs. Is there anything in particular that you are looking for?" she poised her bony fingertips on the old style keyboard and looked at him expectantly.

"Of course," said Jason. "I am looking for a home that has a minimum of three bedrooms and two full bathrooms. I would like a large yard, fenced in if possible. Preferably two story as well."

Her eyes widened a little as she punched in the criteria. The computer whirred to life, displaying a sizable list of options. She stood and retreated into the back room, returning a minute later with a stack of neatly kept packets of paper. Each had a large photo on the front of the houses they advertised. "Here you are. Lets see if any of these suit you."

Jason graciously accepted the files and quickly thumbed through them, finally finding what he was looking for. The house, painted white with a dark green trim, was a large, six bedroom home in the middle of a large lot. The front faced the street, connected by a long driveway that ended in a roundabout that serviced both the house and the three car garage that stood off to the right of the house, on the left side of the circle. It was two stories, with four full bathrooms. On the top floor was a large master bedroom that had its own bathroom, and four other bedrooms, two on each side of the hallway. the pairs were connected to each other via a bathroom.

The downstairs had the one remaining bedroom that was more suited to be a study, a sizeable living room, dining room and kitchen, and a family room filled the bottom floor. The front had a covered porch and the back had a covered patio that was raised to be level with the house. It was solid concrete, surrounded by a half fence of stained wood. the gaps between the supporting pillars were filled with black netting, as if they were windows. The best part about the property was, it was in a neighborhood on the far edge of town, and the closest neighbors had even larger properties of their own, and the fence ringing the entire property, ensured total privacy.

Jason pulled the paper from the stack and handed it to the woman. "I would like to purchase this one."

She glanced at it. "This is a bank owned property…" she tapped at her computer. "The listing price is five hundred ninety-eight thousand even." She looked at him. "How would you like to pay for this? We have several loan options available."

Jason nodded. Thank you, but I will be paying in cash. If it's no trouble, please see if the bank will negotiate a lower price." The woman pursed her lips, but humored him, disappearing into the back room again.

She returned a minute later. "The bank offered to reduce the price by ninety thousand, and are willing to drop the price another fifteen thousand if you close the deal before January first. This property has been vacant for quite some time. I think they're eager to be rid of it."

Jason ran the numbers in his head. All in all, for California, it was a pretty good deal. "Where do I sign?"

Jason left the office with a new set of keys, having completed a virtual mountain of paperwork. He'd arranged with Mrs. Tebbs, the realtor, to have the house inspected and cleaned by a local service, and she promised it would be done before noon. He thought she might pass out or have a heart attack when she found out Jason actually had the financial ability to make his purchase in one payment.

He drove off, swinging by the high school to apply for a position as an English teacher before heading straight for his new home, arriving just as the last of the cleaning crews, inspectors, and gardeners were leaving. He circled his driveway slowly, taking in the sight. It looked a lot better in person, even more so since it was clean.

He backed into the middle carport and headed inside, closing first the garage door, then the gate that blocked access to his property and sealed the rectangular perimeter with an automatic cast iron gate. He took off his shoes in the entryway as he entered. As promised, the house was spotless and ready to move in. The water and power were on and running, all the light fixtures had been dusted and filled with new bulbs, and the carpets were freshly cleaned, and they looked to be in almost new condition. As on the outside, the inside was painted white on the bottom floor, but the bedrooms upstairs each had their own color, all pleasant colors that were easy on the eyes and still allowed a good level of brightness.

He walked down to the end of the hall and opened the door to the master bedroom. It was large and had vaulted ceilings, rising half again as high as the other ceilings on the top floor. the back wall, facing North, had massive windows, covered with custom drapes, that looked out over the back yard and into the woods behind the back fence. The fence was the line of Jason's property, but there were no houses on the other side, and no plans as of yet to develop it, leaving it as part of the city park grounds that spanned over many acres.

Jason couldn't help but smile in satisfaction. He'd spent a good amount of money, and would continue to do so until the empty husk of house turned into a suitable home. For that, he decided, he'd need a little bit of help. But first, now that he was settled, he had a wish to fulfill.

[Break: Point of View change]

"Like I said, Aiden," said Deaton. "Jason knows what his responsibilities are. He's never been one to shirk his duty."

Aiden carefully placed a small breed dog back in its kennel. "I can see that now, but what did he mean, when that Omega asked him if Jason would deny him his revenge? He said that it wouldn't be denied."

"Hawks can heal the souls of their Betas," said Deaton. "Since they came into existence, they have occasionally taken on Betas for the express purpose of giving them a second chance; to learn from their mistakes and live a better life. Werewolves respect that and keep their hands out of the Hawks' decisions about such things. By claiming you, Jason effectively made you untouchable by any werewolves." Ethan and Aiden exchanged hopeful glances.

Deaton looked up from his paperwork as the bell over his front door jingled. In the other room, Scott, Aiden and Ethan had gotten quiet. He set his pen aside and stood, straightening his lab coat before entering the waiting room. Jason stood there, looking like he wished he could be anywhere else. Scott poked his head out from the kennel room. "Everything okay, Doctor?"

Deaton nodded. "We'll be just fine, Scott." He met Jason's gaze unflinchingly. "Have you cooled off now?"

Jason clenched his teeth, fangs forming slightly. He didn't respond for a moment, and Deaton watched as his fangs slowly disappeared. "I'm fine," he said finally, though his eyes still glowed red. "I'm in control."

"I take it, since you came back, you intend to stay around for a while," stated Deaton. Scott reappeared behind him as Jason growled.

"Gloating doesn't suit you, Deaton," rumbled Jason. "You knew from the moment those words left your mouth that you sealed my fate."

"A lesser man would have run away from his fate," challenged Deaton. "I know you well, Jason, but six years is a long time. People change."

Jason roared. "My word does not!" He took a moment to compose himself. "My honor is worth more than that, and you know it."

Deaton nodded. "Which is why you are a true Alpha, my friend." He smiled warmly. "Have you found a place to stay yet?"

"Yes," said Jason. "It's a nice place; needs a bit of… supernatural touch to it, though."

Deaton, behind the closed gate lined with mountain ash, moved along the counter to a single piece of paper and pen, where he rested his hand. "And… the wish?"

Jason stalked forward, taking the sheet of paper and looking it over. It spelled out everything Deaton's final wish entailed, to the letter. He growled softly as he read, finally setting it back down on the counter. He took the pen and signed it. With a last, glowering look at Deaton, he sighed. His eyes pulsed red. "Granted."

In the other room, Aiden and Ethan gasped as the pact was made, both instinctively regaining their status as Betas. The title had its own mysterious properties that few questioned, and all understood. Betas as part of a pack were inherently stronger than lone Betas, and significantly stronger than Omegas.

Deaton gave a satisfied nod. "This will be a good change of pace for those two. They've been living in the local youth shelter, or out in the woods. They need a stable home."

"I will give them what they need," said Jason quietly. "They are my pack now."

"I know," said Deaton. "Dont fight it, Jason. This will be a good learning experience for you as well. Ethan, Aiden?" he called.

The twins appeared. Neither were brave enough to come too close, or speak. If anything, Jason would have called them shy.

Deaton cleared his throat. "Tonight is your last night in the shelter. Jason will provide you with a place to stay starting tomorrow. Meet him here, at my office, at noon." He looked to Jason. "Does that give you sufficient time to get your affairs in order?"

"Yes," said Jason. He glanced at the twins. Neither one would meet his gaze. "Make sure you have all of your belongings with you tomorrow. We will be moving in to my place as soon as you get here."

The twins nodded, then excused themselves, leaving the clinic quickly. Jason looked after them curiously. "What have you been telling them to expect?"

Deaton shrugged. "Not much, just that you will keep your word to me. However, your tantrum…" he paused as Jason growled. "...your displeasure," he amended, "had them scared. It took Scott a long time to convince Ethan to give you a chance. Aiden seems slightly more confident of you though."

Scott emerged from the kennel room. "Hi Jason."

Jason nodded a quick greeting. "Scott, I need to talk to you."

"Sure, what's up?" he asked.

"I need to form an Alpha pact with you," said Jason. He continued at the young Alpha's confused expression. "It's an agreement between Alphas to coexist in the same territory, to meet in council when major decisions need to be made, and to get permission from each other before performing a bite. It's basically like forming a super pack with two separate entities who watch each other's backs."

Scott nodded. "Sounds good, but I have to make this perfectly clear. Beacon Hills does not-"

"Need more werewolves," finished Jason. "You have never bitten anyone, and neither have I. I only brought that up because I wanted you to know exactly what it was about."

Scott nodded in satisfaction. "Good. How do we do the pact?"

Jason rolled up his sleeve, exposing his arm. "We bite each other. When done under the pretense of a pact, it creates a sort of link between packs. Just as you instinctively know where your betas are, you will be able to sense mine, as well as me. I will be able to do the same for you and your pack."

"There's something that even I didn't know," commented Deaton. "Scott, can you sense where Isaac is?"

Scott frowned. "West. That's all I can feel. Is that good?"

Jason chuckled. "Just wait until you bite me. I'll show you how it's done." Scott moved into the waiting room as Deaton opened the gate. Jason offered his arm, and took Scott's in return. "Scott McCall. Alpha to Alpha, I bestow my blessing, and accept yours in return."

Scott took Jason's arm, and with a little prompting, repeated the same words, substituting Jason's name. As if of their own accord, both of them transformed into werewolves, eyes glowing a bright red. As one, they bit, then it was over, and they reverted to their human form.

Scott watched as his wound healed over quickly. "Huh, I thought wounds from an Alpha were harder to heal."

"Not from an Alpha you have a pact with," said Jason. His arm was already fully healed. "Can you sense the twins?"

Scott closed his eyes. "Yeah, they're to the east."

Jason took a step closer to Scott and put his hand on the younger man's eyes. "Try again."

Scott gasped. "They're at the intersection of Main and Arbor, heading towards the school." He looked at Jason in amazement as his hand fell away. "How did I know that?"

Jason grinned. "A were hawk's senses are a little bit better than a werewolf's. If my werewolves are within my territory, I can pinpoint their location. If you're within a few feet of me, I can extend that specific awareness to you as well. It will take some practice though."

"So what's our territory?" asked Scott.

Jason concentrated. "The two of us combined have a radius of about forty miles. It extends in all directions from wherever we stand."

"Can you sense other werewolves who pass through your invisible territory line?" asked Deaton. "Sort of like a supernatural radar?"

Jason nodded slowly. "Sort of. I'll know something's coming, but I wont be able to track it effectively or deduce what it is, just a general sense that there's something has passed into my territory, like a normal werewolf. My heightened senses only work on my werewolves in my territory. beyond that I sense as Scott normally does."

"Still," said Scott. "That's a neat trick."

Jason checked his watch. "It's almost five; Scott, we need to get going."

Scott looked confused. "Where?"

"To pick your mother up," said Jason. "I need some help putting the inside of my house together. Your mom is an obvious good choice, and I thought you'd be helpful since you're a teenage guy and know the twins a bit better than I do."

Scott stroked his chin. "Do I get anything out of this?"

Jason frowned. "Did you have anything in mind?"

"My dirt bike needs a new taillight," said Scott.

"Sure, I can do that," said Jason. "Lets get going."

Deaton chuckled. "I'm glad you're taking this in stride, Jason."

Jason, halfway out the door, turned to glare at him. "I still haven't forgiven you, you know."

"I'll make it up to you somehow," offered Deaton. "Have fun."

Jason closed the door behind him and got into the driver seat of his Veloster. Scott whistled as he got into the passenger seat. "This is nice! How much did it cost?"

"Just shy of fifty thousand," said Jason.

Scott cringed. "Man, how long will it take you to pay this off?"

Jason laughed. "It's paid in full. I have a bit of a rainy day stash." He pulled out of the parking lot and zoomed down the street, making sure to stay the speed limit all the way to the hospital.

Scott's cell phone rang. "Hello? Mom, what's wrong? Okay. Yeah, we're almost there.." he ended the call. "My mom's car got hit by a garbage dumpster this afternoon. How the heck does that happen?"

Jason slowed to a stop in the parking lot and pointed. "Um, that's how." Melissa was standing on the curb, waiting for Scott. In the parking lot, there was a taped off section. Inside the bounds, was a vaguely recognisable car that had a large metal container protruding from its roof. The top had bowed inward and all the windows had shattered. It was totalled. A garbage truck was parked nearby and the operator was talking with both Mrs. McCall and a police officer. "Ouch."

Scott winced. "Good thing we have insurance, and that I wasn't driving." he moved to the back seat as Jason pulled up right in front of Melissa. He rolled down the passenger window. Scott poked his head out. "Mom, I volunteered your homemaking expertise. Let's go."

She hesitated only a moment before getting into the car. As Jason pulled away, and headed for the highway, Scott clued her in and she got more excited. "This is going to be so much fun!" Scott and Jason exchanged knowing glances. "I'm glad that you'll be staying in the area, Jason. I feel a lot safer with you and Scott around. You're a lot better than that Peter Hale guy."

"Thanks, I think," said Jason. He turned off the highway and headed through the next town over before hopping on the freeway, heading for Redding. It was the nearest, largest shopping center in relation to Beacon Hills, and as Jason drove, only an hour away.

Along the way, his phone rang, and he answered it through his car's bluetooth. "This is Jason Frost."

"Jason, it's Lance," his agent's voice came loud and clear over the car's stereo system. "I just wanted to check in and see how you were doing."

"Things are going well here," said Jason. "In fact, I'll probably be staying out here for a few years, not weeks."

The phone went silent for a minute. Jason imagined what Lance must be doing on the other end. Probably smashing something. "That's quite a distance to commute for work, Jason. How are you going to do this? Where the heck are you anyway?"

"I was actually going to call you about that. I'm not going to be able to keep the same work schedule as before," said Jason. "I've got some new responsibilities out here that I can't ignore."

"Jason, I don't want to sound like the bad guy here, but you need to focus on your career if you ever want to get off the ground," said Lance. "If you feel so strongly about it, bring your responsibilities back to Hollywood and get on with your life! I've gotten over a dozen concert requests for you in the past few days, and producers and directors are all but pounding on my door. They want you, Jason."

Jason sighed under his breath. "That's not going to be possible, Lance. I can't relocate. I've got work lined up out here in Beacon Hills, and this will give me more time to work on my next album, but acting is out, and music is going to be a part time thing from now on."

Lance's mood continued to degenerate. "Jason...okay, you know what, fine. It's your life. I dont know what you've gotten yourself into up there, but it's your problem. Give me a call when you want to get back into the business. Did you want me to decline all the concert requests as well?"

"Are there any local ones?" asked Jason.

"There's one in, uh… Fresno,"said Lance. "They wanted to schedule you on new year's eve."

"I'll take that one. Send me the details when you finalize everything Lance," said Jason. "And just to make it clear, I'm not throwing everything away; I just have a few higher priorities at the moment. I'll make sure to stay in touch." he hung up, putting his attention back to driving.

Mrs. McCall frowned. "You're sure you want to stay in Beacon Hills? Sounds like you've got to be in LA."

Jason shrugged. "It's safer for the twins here. I'll make it work."

"You definitely take your responsibilities seriously, Jason," said Melissa. She caught the barest hint of conflict on the young man's face. "That's a good quality to have."

Jason nodded silently and kept driving. It was going to be hard to adjust and work around his teaching job, but once he'd made up his mind, he knew he was going to do it, no matter how hard it was.

They arrived in Redding and hit the furniture stores first. Mrs. McCall was practically bouncing off the walls, choosing beds, frames, couches, chairs, tables, dressers and a lot of other things. All was in a modern style that Melissa said matched Jason's persona. Jason had no complaints. Most of the bedroom furniture was black and modern, with sharp, clean angles. The furniture for the living rooms and kitchen was either dark stained wood or dark leather. Jason gave Melissa a set of pictures he'd taken of the different rooms in the house and left her to her devices while he and Scott escaped to the electronics store next door. Three laptops, one desktop and a tablet later, they browsed the flat screen tvs until Scott decided on a medium sized 45 inch that would fit perfectly in the entertainment center.

"Wow," Scott said as he tallied up the bill. His jaw hit the floor as Jason swiped his card. They stopped for dinner before hitting the rest of the stores and finally called it quits when the moving truck Jason had rented could barely hold it all.

Melissa laughed as she came out of the last store, debating how she would manage to stuff one more bag into the car's trunk. "Scott, Jason… this is exactly what I needed." she said. "Things at work have just been so hectic lately, and all the supernatural drama, and then the car problem. I needed to relax and unwind a bit. Thank you for that."

"I'd say anytime," said Jason, "but I'm afraid this is a one-time deal." He chuckled. "I never really appreciated how much money people put into their homes." They walked along the outside of the mall, taking their time.

Scott nodded. "One thing's for sure, Aiden and Ethan are going to be blown away."

"I'm not doing this to impress them," said Jason quietly. "I decided I want to give them a chance to live a, well, an almost normal life. From what Deaton said, their childhood was robbed from them, and they've lived a tough life because of it. I want that to change."

The three of them stopped as a small group of teenagers emerged right in front of them from the local theater. Both groups stopped, nearly running into each other. Jason froze, locking gazes with one of the teenage girls. She stared back, jaw dropping in shock. "Oh no…" he muttered under his breath. He grabbed Scott's shoulder and Melissa's wrist and dragged them away, fast.

Behind them, the girl screamed frantically. "Oh my gosh! That was Jason Frost!"

Then the little group was chasing after them as they fled through the parking lot. They practically sprinted to their parking spot and crammed into the car. Melissa couldn't stop laughing. The sound was so contagious that both Jason and Scott were laughing as they peeled out of the parking lot and headed home. Behind them, the truck lumbered after, following in their wake.

"Do you get that a lot?" asked Scott, wiping his eyes dry. He grinned as Jason gave him an expression of mock horror.

"Mostly whenever I release a new album," said Jason. "It gets really bad for a little while, then dies down. This is my first movie experience where I'm actually in the film, though." He shuddered. "I'm glad we were in a small town, and not a metropolis. _That_ would have been a nightmare."

Melissa, exhausted from her shopping, leaned back in her seat and dozed.

"I've never seen her so carefree," commented Scott quietly. "Before Stiles and I ruined her last date, I never knew how hurt she really was, and how much she tried to hide it."

"Your mother is an amazing woman," agreed Jason. "But even amazing people need their rest. Make sure she gets some downtime on occasion."

"Definitely," said Scott. They drove in silence the rest of the way. Jason dropped them off, stopping Scott just before the teen headed inside.

"Scott. Can I count on you to watch out for the twins?" he asked. "I dont expect much trouble, but anything can happen."

"Sure. Like you said, we're a superpack now. I'll watch your back if I can count on you to watch mine and Isaac's," said Scott.

"Deal," agreed Jason. He left, directing the moving truck to his new house. A few hours later, the truck was gone and Jason, now that humans were gone, was able to use his strength to get everything put together and moved into their proper places. Before midnight, he stood in his fully outfitted house, from furniture to artwork hanging on the walls, and he had to admit. It felt like home. He settled down, trying to get some sleep. He had tomorrow to get everything in order, get the twins settled in, then only two weeks to prepare to start his new job and practice for his upcoming concert.


	7. Black Magic

Chapter 6: Black Magic

Ethan kicked his motorcycle to life, revving the engine to warm it up. His brother, Jordan was right next to him, on his own matching motorcycle. The bike had belonged to Aiden. Both of them carried a small duffel bag that contained a few changes of clothes and little else. Between living as werewolves and travelling to find a new pack, they'd shed some deadweight, only keeping what they could carry, and most of what they had was now worn and in disrepair.

Ethan shivered. "You're not having second thoughts about this whole thing, are you?"

"I hate not knowing what to expect," said Jordan. "For all we know, this pack could be worse than our last ones."

"Just give him a chance, like Scott asked," said Ethan. "At least we're Betas now, and if Deaton's right, we might actually be able to get some sleep at night." He studied his brother, who had dark rings under his eyes. "You okay?"

Jordan shook his head. "I dont know. I go to bed at night not sure if I'll wake up in the morning, and if I do fall asleep, I just dream about what I'm worried about."

"Relax," said Ethan. "Nobody is going to come looking for us here; not anymore. And anyone who wants to come after us will have to get through the other alphas first, including Ducaleon. On top of that, there's Jason. Jordan, I wish you had been there to see it!"

Jordan shuddered. "I need to tell you the truth, Ethan. I cant take this running and hiding anymore. If Deaton's so sure that Jason can make a difference, I'm ready to take a chance."

Ethan nodded, admittedly feeling something similar. "That's why we're still hanging around here." Even though he agreed with his brother, he couldn't stop the feeling of anxiety that formed a pit in his stomach. "We dont want to be late, let's go." He revved his bike and they took off, zipping out of the youth shelter parking lot and down the street. It took them a minute longer to navigate the 'lunch rush' on main street, then they pulled into the animal clinic's lot.

Scott's dirtbike was there, as was Deaton's car. Next to them was a shiny new veloster, a car they'd never seen in the lot before. As they pulled up, the clinic door opened and Jason emerged, followed by Scott. The twins stopped short as he looked at them.

Ethan nudged Jordan. "Does he look different to you?"

Jordan shrugged. "Well, he doesn't look like he's about to tear someone's throat out today, if that's what you mean. That's got to be an improvement, right?"

Jason waved to them as he pulled a manilla envelope from his car. digging around inside it, he pulled out two shiny new keys and two pairs of garage openers. Jordan and Ethan caught them, giving each other confused glances. "You'll be needing those." Jason said. "Do you want to follow me, or ride in my car?"

"We'll be right behind you," offered Ethan. They waited for Jason and Scott to get in the car, then followed the Veloster through town. Jordan started getting edgy as they passed through several neighborhoods and kept going towards the far edge of town. Finally, they turned onto a long street that was lined, not with houses, but with gates or driveways that led to houses.

"I think he took a wrong turn…" started Ethan as he caught a look at a few of the houses. They were massive, expensive, and way beyond anything he'd known a werewolf to live in, with the exception of the previous Hale pack, who had owned an estate prior to their deaths. The Veloster turned into a driveway that was almost to the end of the street and stopped. Slowly, the gate opened, rolling out of the way to the left to admit the vehicles. They continued at a slow pace down a long driveway that was lined with tall trees. At the top of the driveway, up a short incline, was a roundabout, and a house.

Both Ethan and Jordan slowed to a stop as they saw the house. Ethan gasped. "You're not having the same dream as I am, are you?"

"I don't know, are you seeing a really big house?" asked Jordan. "White with green trim?"

Ethan nodded. "I think this is real… or we're starting to hallucinate like Stiles used to."

The veloster coasted to a stop, pulling into the garage as the middle door rolled up. Jordan clicked his remote, and the left door eased into the roof. He slowly pulled in and powered down his bike. On the other side, Ethan did the same.

Jason got out of his car and stepped out of the garage, closing his door as Scott emerged. Ethan and Jordan, carrying their small bags, joined them a minute later. "Before we go inside, I need to make something clear." He saw the brothers gulp and idly wondered what strange ideas their imaginations had cooked up. "Doctor Deaton and I installed a mountain ash barrier along the fence. When the front gate is closed, nothing supernatural will be able to get in, anywhere on the property. If you want to leave by any other method than the driveway, be sure to open the gate first."

Ethan almost sighed with relief. "Wow, I didn't know you could make them that big. Is that all?"

Jason gave a small smile. "Take your shoes off before you go inside. The carpets were just cleaned. The bedrooms are on the second floor, you can choose any of them except the master bedroom." He gestured towards the house and the young wolves, with a cross between excitement and fear, slowly crossed the drive and entered, both remembering to take off their shoes.

"Sometimes I forget that they're just normal teenagers," said Scott. He followed Jason inside, almost running into the twins. They just stood in the entryway and stared. "Jordan, is there a problem?" he fought to hide his grin.

Jordan seemed to snap out of whatever dream he'd been in. "Sorry, no, no problem." He shook Ethan's shoulder and they raced upstairs.

A minute later they could hear them exploring the different rooms, bickering over who would get which one. They were all equipped with a queen sized bed, dresser, desk and nightstand, just your basic stuff. Jason didn't want things to get too cluttered before the twins could personalize their rooms a bit.

Jason sat on the living room couch and waited, flipping through the channels on his tv. Scott sat across from him on the other sofa. They were in the middle of discussing the coming school year when the twins emerged from the second floor. They took seats, one next to Scott and the other in an armchair. Jason could tell something was different in their expressions, something that almost looked like relief. "So, what do you think of the house?"

Ethan chuckled. "I'm still waiting for someone to tell us this is all some big joke." he said. "We've never lived in a place this nice."

Jordan nodded his head in agreement, finally speaking up. "Not even when we still lived with our parents. I honestly thought we'd end up in an abandoned warehouse somewhere, or a low rent apartment."

"I don't think we'll ever have to stoop so low as to inhabit a warehouse," said Jason. "We'll be staying here until you two graduate high school, as long as it's safe to do so. Since we all have incentive to stay now, I expect us all to be very careful not to draw attention to our supernatural sides."

"You dont have to say that twice," said Ethan. He glanced at Jordan. "We've been wanting to settle down for a while now. This is like a dream come true."

[Change in view]

The first week of winter break flew by quickly. Jason spent most of his free time in his massive garage, where he set up a sound studio and worked on his music. His Betas were hesitant for the first few days, but by Christmas Eve, were acting less like timid children and more like teenage werewolves. They'd gotten a lot more comfortable with him, especially since he'd started teaching them martial arts. A lot of their change in behavior was Scott's doing. Jason's house became the designated hang out spot, and both Scott and Stiles were over multiple times a day, and they were both doing their best to put the past behind them and start fresh. Stiles with a bit more success than Scott, but they were both trying especially hard to get to know Jordan.

Jason finished his afternoon recording session, not quite satisfied with his work. He'd been distracted, almost edgy all morning. His thoughts kept returning to the shadowy…. thing that had attacked Lydia on the last day of school. He, Scott, and Deaton had been keeping tabs on the town, but found nothing out of the ordinary for the past few days, and Jason's research had turned up nothing.

He set out on a jog to blow off some steam, heading for the animal clinic. The afternoon sun was warm, but there was still a bit of a chill, or what passed for a chill during California's 'winter season'. It was a good distance away, but he made good time and arrived during the Doctor's lunch hour. He stopped short as he came into view of the door. The glass had been shattered, and all the lights in the waiting room were out. He cautiously approached, ducking inside.

Glass crunched underfoot as he eased his way inside. The waiting room was in shambles. Shattered chairs were strewn all over the floor, their thin padding in shreds. Glass, magazines and other papers littered the floor. Anything that had been hanging on the wall no longer did so, and the front counter was a splintered mess. From the operating room, he heard something shatter, and Doctor Deaton gasped in pain.

Jason leapt forward, in full werewolf mode. He vaulted the counter, feeling the shredded supernatural barrier tug at him as he passed. The enchantment was still intact, but very weak, as if something had already broken through and it was still trying to repair itself. He burst in, growling low. Deaton stood in the middle of a failing mountain ash ring, shielding his face with his arms as something, like a shadow, repeatedly bashed up against the barrier.

Jason stepped forward, speaking quickly in ancient celtic. Extending two fingers of his left hand, he began tracing a five pointed star in the air in front of him. "Earth, Air, Fire, Water, Spirit," he called. As his fingers moved, a faintly glowing line appeared, forming into a white star, surrounded by a circle. "Evil begone!"

There was a flash of white light and an almost physical force lifted Jason violently from his feet, throwing him up against the far wall. He slid to the ground, the wind knocked out of him. The shadow wasn't as lucky. Whatever it was, it was weak enough to be torn to shreds by Jason's banishment spell.

Deaton sighed with relief, scuffing his ash circle as he made his way to Jason's side. "Perfect timing, my friend. Are you okay?" He wiped a trickle of blood from his nose, groping along the wall for the light switch.

Jason groaned. "I'm fine, I think. This is why I hate doing white magic shorthand."

Deaton chuckled. "What did you hit it with?" He helped Jason to his feet.

Jason shrugged. "It was the basic darkness repelling spell that was in the book you gave me… but technically being a creature of darkness myself, I got blasted too. The longer version adds a kind of 'exception rule' for me. That's enough about me. Are you okay?"

"I am now," said Deaton. He was pale and shaking, physically and mentally exhausted.

"That thing was pretty weak," said Jason. "Like that other one that attacked Lydia. Why didn't you just banish it yourself?"

Deaton shook his head. "I dont have that kind of power anymore, not since my nematon was cut down. Even less now that it's been corrupted by that Darrach. Without a nematon, my options are severely limited, and gathering or storing power in _this _town is dangerous enough to be impossible."

Jason nodded in agreement. "Especially with all that's happened in the recent months. Scott's been bringing me up to speed. Stiles is doing pretty well for having hosted a nogitsune."

"Yes, he is," said Deaton. "That was our one lucky break in a long time."

"Hold on," said Jason, frowning. "You might not be able to use white magic, but your wards are just as powerful as ever." he toed the remains of the mountain ash barrier. "How did that thing break through it?"

Deaton shook his head, regarding Jason seriously. "That's what worries me. It had help."

"Knock knock?" a masculine voice drifted in hesitantly from the waiting room. Jason heard the crunch of glass and he quickly reverted to human form as another human edged his way into the room, polished handgun first. Chris Argent took a look at them, then around the decimated operating room. He whistled low. "I like what you've done with the place, Doctor."

Deaton chuckled at the attempted humor. "You just missed another one of our shadowy friends. That's the second one in a week. I'm starting to believe Lydia's right."

Chris cleared his throat. "Do you think your ward around the nematon is weakening?" he asked. "If it is, we might be broadcasting loud and clear to any dark creatures out there."

Deaton shook his head. "No, that ward is still intact, but I think it's time to finally get rid of the nematon all together and perhaps plant a new one."

"That's even more dangerous than keeping the old one, Doctor," said Chris. "If anything corrupts it before it reaches a safe level of maturity, we'll have a _healthy _corrupted nematon! And it will take twenty years for it to reach that level."

"Maybe not," said Deaton. He gave a small smile of satisfaction. "Jason, would you mind assisting me with that project?"

Jason grumbled. "That's a pretty tall order, Deaton. That's definitely going to cost some primary feathers."

"They'll regrow," said Deaton. "But we're not in a rush. We still have to figure out how to completely destroy the old nematon. Now, did you come here to visit, or did you find something, Chris?"

"Right," Chris stroked his greying stubble as he pulled out a tablet, powering on the screen. He pulled up a passage in his family's digital Bestiary. The image matched the strange apparition that had attacked Deaton and Lydia almost perfectly. "Our mysterious guests were Wraiths. Sorry it took me so long to find."

Jason took a closer look, reading over the Hunter's shoulder. "A Wraith, commonly called a Shade, is a fragmented soul that has failed to pass on into the next existence.."

Chris nodded. "From my research, they're not intelligent, and they normally can't take on such a complete form or even interact with the physical world. They're bits and pieces of souls that drift around the world. The one thing that did catch my eye though, is this." He passed the tablet to Deaton.

"A shade is classified as an undead creature, and has been known to be summoned by practitioners of black magic for a myriad of purposes," he looked up. "Looks like we've got ourselves a puppet infestation."

Jason nodded. "Yes, but why are they coming to Beacon Hills, and who's behind it?"

Chris shrugged, putting his things away. "That's something I'll have to look into. I have a few people who might know more about this. I'll see if I can get in touch with them."

"Thanks," said Deaton. "Until we know more, everyone should be on their guard. You as well, Chris."

"I'll be fine," the hunter said. He indicated the state of the clinic. "Worry about yourself first, Doctor." He left.


	8. Burgess on Ice

Chapter 7: Burgess on Ice

"You know, I didn't realize how much I missed having you ride along," said Sheriff Stilinski. He stopped the police cruiser at a red light on Main Street, looking over at his son who sat in the passenger seat. Stiles was busy texting. "Uh, Stiles?"

Stiles looked up guiltily, putting his phone down. "Yeah, dad?"

"I thought you wanted to talk," he said. The light turned green and they started down the road again. The streets were filled with last minute Christmas shoppers, and the parking spaces along both sides of the lanes were packed.

"Yeah, I did," said Stiles. "About that…" He cleared his throat. "Dad, you remember when you asked me and Scott to warn you if any new werewolves came to Beacon Hills?"

Stilinski groaned. "Stiles, please tell me you're joking!"

"It's not that bad, Dad!" said Stiles. "I already met one of them and-"

"There's more than one!?" exclaimed Stilinski. He signalled and turned down a side street. "How many are there?"

"Um...three," said Stiles hesitantly. "But they're good guys, dad, at least the one that I met, and Scott doesn't think they'll cause problems." He frowned. "Where are you going?"

"I just decided I need coffee," said the Sheriff. He looked at his son. "And something a lot stronger, but since I'm still on duty, coffee will have to do."

"That's-Dad, look out!" yelled Stiles.

His dad yanked the steering wheel, swerving out of the way as a large, black SUV came blasting around a blind corner, cutting across both lanes of traffic and jumping the curb before smashing into the side of the building. Before either of them could react, the car pulled out, leaving a gaping hole and rubble behind as it got back on the road and sped off.

Stilinski started turning his car around to go after the SUV when Stiles grabbed his shoulder. "Dad, stop!"

"Stiles, I have to get that license plate, or-" he stopped as he looked where his son was looking. "Oh my -" he was out the door and running before the full phrase was out of his mouth. Stiles wasn't far behind him as they sprinted across the street to where the car had impacted. Someone was laying on the ground next to the hole in the wall.

Sheriff Stilinski knelt by the victim. The young man was still conscious, breathing rapid, shallow breaths. One of his arms hung at an awkward angle, and the right side of his torso was covered in blood. He had blood streaming from several cuts on his head as well. Already there were signs of bruising from the impact. "Hey, can you hear me? Are you okay?" He started removing chunks of debris from the area. "Stiles, get the first aid kit!"

Halfway to the hole in the wall, Stiles retreated and returned with a large case. He placed it on the ground and nearly tripped in surprise. "J-jason?! What happened?"

The young man's eyes opened as he tried to focus. "Stiles?" He grimaced as he tried to sit up. Sheriff Stilinski held him down.

"Hey, no moving yet. You're in pretty bad shape, kid." he said. "Stiles, you know him?"

"Yeah," said Stiles. "That's Jason Frost. He just moved in about a week ago."

"Is he a...you know…?" asked Stilinski.

Stiles nodded.

"Why isn't he healing?" his dad whispered urgently.

"I, am," said Jason between breaths. "It's slow right now, because I'm exhausted." He struggled against the Sheriff's arm and sat up. With his good arm, he reached over and grabbed his injured arm. With a pained grunt, he yanked it. There was a loud, wet pop and the joint pulled back into place.

Stiles gagged. "That was...disgusting. Are you going to be okay, Jason?"

Sheriff Stilinski stood up. "We need to get him to the hospital."

"No," Jason shook his head. "I'll be fine in a minute. They didn't damage anything vital." He was already looking a lot better. His arm was fully mended and any cuts and scrapes were fading. Last to go were the massive bruises that had swathed almost his entire side. "I was able to get out of the way of the worst of it."

"You're lucky to be alive," said the Sheriff.

Jason shrugged. "I've had worse. They caught me off guard this time." He managed to get to his feet. "Stiles, you need to get out of here-" he pushed Stiles to the ground as an arrow smashed into the brick wall, missing them by inches. Reacting quickly, he grabbed both the Sheriff and his son and lifted them bodily off the ground before sprinting down the length of building and into the back alley. Main street had a long strip of buildings interrupted only by side streets. Running the entire length of the shops was a service alley. An arrow pinged off the wall as Jason sprinted and made it to safety, getting out of the line of fire. They took shelter behind a pair of metal dumpsters.

Sheriff Stilinski crouched down with his gun out. He inched around to try to get a good look, and had to pull his head back as another arrow nearly took it off. Two men stood at the mouth of the alley, slowly making their way inward. "Stiles, I thought you said the new wolves wouldn't cause problems!"

Shaking with adrenaline, Stiles chuckled nervously. "Technically, those guys with the bows are causing the trouble, Dad. Whoever they are...Dad, what are you doing?"

Sheriff Stilinski stood up, coming out from behind the garbage bin. He levelled his gun at the two men. "This is the Sheriff! Drop your weapons and get down on the ground, now!" Jason was moving even before he heard the snapping twang of the bowstrings. He lunged and tackled the sheriff, knocking him flat as two arrows flashed by, straight through the space he'd just occupied.

"Nice save," grunted Stilinski. He rolled to his feet and lined up his gun, shooting at the bowmen's feet . They shrank back, taking cover at the mouth of the alley. "Stiles, get out of here!"

"This way!" Stiles was already a good distance down the alley and he'd found an open door that led into one of the shops. Jason and Sheriff Stilinski backed away carefully, laying down cover fire while Jason kept a sharp eye out for other threats. They made it to the doorway and ducked inside, slamming the door closed behind them. Jason helped Stiles push a large crate in front of the door.

Inside the shop was completely dark. Stiles had his cell phone out and used it to give some light. Sheriff Stilinski leaned against the wall, breathing hard. He pulled his radio out and called for backup. "So, you're Jason?" he asked. "Do you know who's trying extremely hard to kill you? They're hunters, right?"

Jason nodded, moving his way further into the store. "Its probably the Burgess family. They've been hunting my family for almost five generations." They moved into the front room. The main portion of the vacant shop was covered in a layer of dust and grime. Tattered blue sheets hung like drapes in the large windows, giving everything in the room a strange tint. "I thought I'd left them behind in England, but this isn't the first time they've found me quickly."

"Well, lets see what we can do to make it the last time," said Sheriff Stilinski. "They've attempted vehicular manslaughter and shot at the Beacon Hills police force. If they don't surrender when my backup gets here, we won't hold back."

"They're after me, not you," said Jason. "There's no reason for you to get injured or killed on my behalf." He looked back at the way they'd come as the two men tried to force themselves in. The door was metal and the large crate would prevent it from opening enough for them to get in.

"This isn't about you, and it's not about werewolves and hunters," said Stilinski. "This is about people coming into _my _town and putting innocent people in danger. I'm going to neutralize a threat." He grabbed Jason's shoulder. "Now, tell me what you know about them, and we'll see if we can keep all parties involved alive."

"Sure," Jason frowned. "The last time they were after me, there were five of them. At least, I saw five of them. Their leader is Kent Burgess, the actual hunter. The rest are his hired help, so he could have more, or less men at his disposal. His older brother is in prison for life for murdering my parents and brother."

"What's his thought process like?" asked Stilinski. "What can we expect him to do in this situation?"

"He's a very complex person. He has an objective and a process he uses to get the results he wants," said Jason. "He's very intelligent and his plans are very intricate. The only way you can thwart him is by thinking outside the box and getting really lucky. He literally thinks of just about everything. More often than not, I found myself playing right into his hand."

"Sounds like a nasty guy," said Sheriff Stilinski. They heard several squad cars pull up and the Sheriff began directing his officers to form a perimeter. He listened to his radio intently. "Okay, it looks like we're clear. We can get out of here. My men say they took off and they sent one car in pursuit."

They made their way to the front door, and were about to break it down when Jason stumbled back. He reached out one hand slowly. It glanced off an invisible barrier with a flash of blue light.

"Mountain Ash," breathed Stiles. He pulled out his phone and started searching the floor. Jason edged along the perimeter of the circle. It was pretty large, spanning almost the entire room. "Jason, there's no circle! I cant find any ash!"

"We walked into their trap," said Jason. "Stiles, get back!"

They heard footsteps coming from the next room over and three more men emerged from the basement. The adjoining door burst open and three men burst in. Two rushed in, skirting around the ash circle before converging on Sheriff Stilinski. Jason lunged for one but was repelled by the barrier. Stilinski managed to get one shot off before the two hunters tackled him, knocking the gun away.

The third man stood still, his own crossbow levelled at Stiles' head. "Sheriff, I suggest you dont struggle so much, and radio your men outside. Tell them to stay where they are, otherwise your son will die." Stiles stood like a deer in the headlights, blood draining from his face. Stilinski went still, complying with the man's demands. Jason roared, fangs jutting out and eyes blazing red as he edged as much as he could in front of Stiles, pushing hard against the barrier to get closer.

"Jason, I'm offended," said the man. "I haven't seen you in a while. Is that any sort of greeting for an old acquaintance?"

"You're just as much a monster as I remember," growled Jason. "Kent." The hunter's name rolled off his tongue more like a curse than a name.

"That's rich, coming from a _real_ monster," said Kent. "It's unfortunate that your capability of speech hasn't degenerated along with your intelligence. I honestly didn't think you would let yourself be trapped by something so obvious." He looked at the two other humans. "It's almost a shame after all we've been through together. I guess having friends has made you careless."

"We all have our off days," said Jason. "Some, such as yourself, more than others." He smirked as Kent's face turned a bright shade of red.

Kent laughed as Jason pushed harder against the mountain ash ward."Not even an Alpha like you has the power to break this ward, Jason," he said "I'm going to enjoy plucking your feathers, one by one." He leveled his crossbow, taking aim at Jason's heart.

Jason gritted his teeth. "I'll give you points for creativity," he said grudgingly. He'd checked the entire perimeter. There were no weak spots in the barrier. The floor was bare and there was nothing even remotely related to a weapon within reach. "Stiles," he whispered. "Duck!" The teen barely had time to respond, hitting the deck as Jason leapt straight up, grabbing onto a hanging light fixture before punching his way through the thin ceiling panels. The bolt from Kent's crossbow missed both Jason and Stiles by inches. Using his legs, Jason secured himself and began ripping parts of the ceiling free and hurling them towards Kent. Anything he could get his hands on he threw; Light bulbs, ceiling panels, tufts of insulation, planks of wood and pieces of piping all rained down on the hunter. Down below, Kent staggered back, dropping his crossbow.

Stiles quickly crawled through the circle on his hands and knees, picked up the fallen crossbow, then dashed as fast as he could into the other room, and down the stairs. Jason had to admit that Stiles was a quick thinking guy. He launched another barrage of debris, forcing Kent back under cover, then yanked free a length of metal pipe before landing back on the ground. Directly behind him, the Sheriff was struggling against the two hunters who'd pinned him down.

Using his rod, Jason bashed one across the head, sending him sprawling to the ground. He lay still, unconscious. The other rolled out of his reach, giving the Sheriff the perfect opening to gain the upper hand. Jason turned his attention back to Kent, keeping one hand flat against the supernatural barrier. It crackled, flaring with light, then sputtered and died as Stiles, downstairs, was able to disrupt the circle. Jason lunged forward, swinging his rod.

Kent dodged to the side, pulling out a stun baton. Jason dropped his rod and dove away as Kent's baton struck. Had he been touching the rod upon contact, he would have received the full powered jolt from the weapon. He rolled to his feet, in a crouch and growled, extending his claws. One benefit of being a were-creature; you were never unarmed.

Jason yelped as Sheriff Stilinski crashed into him, driving him to the ground. Both the hunters he'd been tangling with were back on their feet and had thrown him. One scrambled along the floor for the sheriff's dropped gun.

Jason heard the click of a magazine locking in place and rolled, landing on top of Sheriff Stilinski. The gun went off and he jolted with each impact. His body spasmed and he slumped to one side, coughing up blood. Sheriff Stilinski looked up at Jason with a mixture of disbelief and horror. Everything seemed to slow down as his mind entered some sort of in between state of unparalleled clarity. His body started going numb, as if his brain could no longer comprehend the pain. He collapsed fully to the ground, unable to move, but somehow still conscious. He refused to close his eyes.

Stiles emerged from the basement, and took aim with the borrowed crossbow as the gunman turned his weapon to the sheriff. He took his shot, but it went wide, only grazing the man's shoulder. "Dad, watch out!" he yelled frantically, voice cracking with panicked emotion. Before either the sheriff or the gunman could move, the shopfront windows shattered and a half dozen men in full riot gear barged in. It was over literally in seconds.

They mowed down the hunter with the gun, and tasered the second. Kent tried to escape through the back door, dropping his stun stick in the process. He found his path blocked, and slowly turned around, hands raised.

Sheriff Stilinski got to his feet, wiping blood, both his and Jason's, from his face. His face was covered in cuts and was starting to swell and bruise. Before the other officers could stop him, he stalked forward and let loose with a savage punch, straight to Kent's jaw. The hunter dropped like a sack of potatoes, out cold.

With the threats neutralized, the riot cops retreated, leaving the rest to the regular officers. "Get a medic in here, right now!" yelled Stilinski. He helped one of his lieutenants handcuff the two hunters, then watched as two paramedics entered the shop and began their work on Jason.

One of them turned to him after a minute. "He's still alive, but he's lost a lot of blood. Once we stabilize him we'll be ready for transport. Four bullet wounds, and a slight damage on his hands consistent with minor burns."

"Get him out of here as soon as possible," said Stilinski. He leaned against one wall as his adrenaline rush began to fade. He didn't have the strength to object when another set of paramedics led him out of the building. Stiles was already out and sitting on the sidewalk. He was pale and shaking, with only minor injuries. While they treated him for his own injuries, Stilinski had plenty of time to reflect on just how close he'd come to losing Stiles again, and how Stiles had come even closer to losing his last parent. He shuddered. In both cases, Jason, a complete stranger, had put himself in harms way to protect them. Whether by instinct, or by assumed responsibility because of the circumstances, Stilinski didn't know too many people who would do that.

Stiles found his way over to his Dad's side. The older man pulled him into a tight embrace, tears flowing freely now that the danger was past. "Dad, he's going to be alright, right?"

"I'll stop by the hospital after I get you home," said Stilinski. "I think your friend will pull through. He's a tough kid." He looked up as one of his lieutenants approached.

"Sheriff, there's a car waiting to take you and Stiles home," he said. "I thought it would be best if you didn't drive."

"I can drive just fine," said Stilinski.

"Sheriff, this one time, please don't argue," he said. "Go home, get some sleep, and come to work at a hundred percent tomorrow."

Sheriff Stilinski nodded, looking at Stiles. "You're right. Let's go." They got into the car and headed for home.

On the way, it finally hit Stiles just how lucky they'd been that night. Both he and his father were able to come home, safe and sound. That fact alone comforted him, a lot. Lately, even something so simple as coming home after work or school hadnt been a sure thing, for either of them. When they got home, Stiles made sure to give his dad a big hug before retreating upstairs. "Dad...promise me you'll be careful." He blinked back tears, on the verge of an emotional breakdown. "I-I can't lose you too."

"Stiles," his dad said. "I can only promise if you can promise too." He shuddered. "Both you and Scott. _Stay safe. _No parent should have to bury their child."


	9. New Year's Revelation

Chapter 8: New Year's Revelation

"Looks like that's everything," said Jason. He closed his home's front door, sliding the deadbolt home. Crossing to his garage, he tossed the last pack of stuff he'd decided to bring in the back of his car and shut the trunk. He'd gotten out of the hospital the day after Christmas, fully healed and ready to be back on his feet. The bullet wounds and other damage had healed within hours after surgery, but since that sort of recovery was impossible for any 'normal' human, Melissa kept him there for a few extra days before letting him go home.

With the unexpected interruption, he'd lost some time preparing for his new year's eve concert later that day, and had spent every waking moment since his discharge from the hospital in his sound studio. Now only hours away, he started getting the pre-show nervousness that had plagued him from the beginning. On the lawn next to the garage, he spotted Ethan and Jordan wrestling. Both had glowing blue eyes and slightly formed fangs, but had almost managed to remain fully human. He chuckled at the sight.

Ethan pinned his brother and stood victoriously, pumping his fist in triumph. "I win shotgun!" He laughed as Jordan glared at him. "Hey, Jason, when do we leave?"

"Right now," said Jason. "We're picking up Stiles on the way. So both of you get the backseat."

Jordan smirked as Ethan groaned and they both got into the back seat. Jason pulled out of the garage and closed the automatic door before zooming down the driveway and out onto the street . A few minutes later they were parked out in front of Stiles' house. Stiles took a quick minute to say goodbye to his dad before getting into the car. He was restless with excitement as Jason zoomed away, heading for the freeway.

"You said Scott and Isaac are coming, right?" asked Ethan. "How are they getting there?"

"Lydia's driving them," said Stiles. He laughed. "Jason, you're in _so_ much trouble!"

Jason looked over in alarm. "Why, what did I do?"

Stiles snickered. "Lydia just watched 'Darklight' the other day."

Jason groaned. "She's not-...is she?"

"She's a bigger Phantom Arcanum fan than Scott and I were," said Stiles. "And she's got a life sized poster of you in her room. She's pretty upset." Behind them, Ethan and Jordan burst out laughing. "She just found out that she's had a crush on her English teacher." The laughter intensified as Jason's face turned a bright shade of red.

They continued their drive, Jason flooring it until they were zooming along the I-5 to Fresno.

[Break: Change in P.o.V.]

"Are you sure you'll be okay?" asked Derek. He paced back and forth in his small apartment as he watched Cora finish her packing. They'd only lived in Westonville for a few weeks, and neither of them bought much, or could afford much, so the suitcase was pitifully small. Derek frowned, feeling a twinge of shame as he fully realized how worn out her clothes had become. "At least let me take you shopping before you go."

Cora sighed, stuffing a last sweater in the case before zipping the luggage closed. "Derek, for the last time, I will be fine. And you don't have to worry. I'll just get some stuff when I get down there. It's cheaper there anyway." She waved away his objections. "And, we can't afford for me to miss this flight as well. You're not made of money, Derek. Not until the whole mess gets sorted out with the police." After the events revolving around Peter's killing spree, with Derek taking the fall due to an _accidental_ mix up, his assets and accounts, as well as the Hale estate had been seized and was still in the process of being returned to him. Until the red tape was cleared, he'd been working a part time job to support himself.

Derek growled softly in annoyance. "I'm an Alpha. I can't just let my Betas, much less my own family run around in rags. I want you to be happy, Cora."

Cora turned on him, baring her fangs. "Do you think clothing and trinkets make me happy? I was happy just to find out you were still alive, Derek! I'm happy now because we _survived_, and on top of that we got to spend a few weeks together without hunters or supernatural monsters trying to kill us. If you really want to make me happy, make yourself happy! Make yourself a home where I can come and visit from time to time. Stay alive!"

Derek seemed to deflate slightly. "Cora, I didn't mean...I just-"

"I know," she said softly. "Hopefully now things will simmer down and you'll be able to have a nice long break from supernatural disasters. Beacon Hills is safe, and the only hunters living in the area seem to be on good terms with all of us. Take advantage of that. I'll come visit soon."

Derek swallowed a lump in his throat, face distorting in a slight scowl. He turned away, stalking into the tiny kitchen. "Just don't stay away too long." he said gruffly.

Cora finished her packing, taking one last look around the small two bedroom apartment. It was bare, outfitted with only the most basic of furniture and amenities, a perfect physical representation of how she felt since their family had burned to death. "Okay," she said, checking her watch. "I'm ready to go."

Derek grabbed her suitcase and followed her out to his car. He was surprised at how difficult it was for him to let her go. He'd lived for six years thinking she was dead, burned alive like the rest of his family. The day of the fire, Derek had been sure that parts of himself had been burned along with them. In the years since, he hadn't once shed tears. Not for the passing of Laura, and definitely not for Peter. Nor could he weep for Allison, as much as he had wanted to, so it came as a shock as Cora walked out his front door for him to find a single trail of moisture slowly winding its way down his cheek.

Derek paused at the top of the stairs, using one hand to wipe his face dry. He stared at his fingers with a sort of detached wonder, unsure of the emotions he now felt. Fear to lose his only family member again, shame for being unable to provide for and protect those around him, uncertainty for what was to come. All the emotions, including those he'd thought himself long since void of, came rushing to the surface as he realized, this might be the last time he saw his sister.

From the bottom of the stairs, Cora stopped, still several feet from the car. She looked up at her older brother. "Derek? Are you coming?"

Derek had half-slumped against the railing as his mind tried to comprehend and process what his heart was feeling. For the briefest moment, he was vulnerable; stripped of his usual gruff, uncaring and moody exterior. In that instant, Cora saw all. She bounded up the stairs and was at his side, pulling him into a tight embrace. "I'll be..." he started, pausing to clear his throat. "I'll be fine." He wrapped his arms around her slender shoulders, marveling at how small and fragile she felt in his embrace, even conscious of the sheer power her tiny frame contained. Then, like a concealing mask, he regained control and carefully pushed her away. "Let's go. We dont want to be late."

Down the stairs, Derek once again stopped as a short, muffled blast echoed around the town. It sounded almost like the backfire from an old car. "Cora get down!" Flinging her suitcase aside, Derek lunged at his sister as an almost whooshing sound grew louder in his sensitive ears. A split second after they hit the pavement, their car blossomed in a sudden explosion.

Partially shielded by another car in the lot as the small shock wave hit, Derek felt the heat of the blast wash over him and the sharp sting of burning debris pelt against his back as he tucked his head and arms protectively over his sister. They rolled to their feet quickly as clouds of black smoke belched up from the wreckage alongside tongues of orange flame.

"Run!" yelled Derek. "Run!" He took Cora's hand and pulled her along, sprinting to the far side of their apartment complex and beyond. They rounded the corner of the large building and came to an abrupt stop. Cutting off their escape, four black clad men stood in wait. They were armed not with tasers or bows, but handguns and assault rifles. Derek's eyes widened in surprise. The men apparently weren't expecting the two werewolves to be uninjured and on their feet. They scrambled to bring their weapons up, but they weren't fast enough. Cora whipped past Derek and slammed into the hunters, claws slashing.

With a roar, Derek joined her, landing powerful sweeping blows to their enemies. Within thirty seconds, the four hunters were on the ground and unconscious, some bleeding from fairly deep wounds. The hunter's weapons worried Derek. They'd caught this group off guard, but if they'd been more alert the wolves could have just as easily walked into a wall of bullets.

Cora pulled one of the handguns from one unconscious hunter and tossed it to Derek before claiming one for herself. Before she could retrieve anything else more useful, a few bullets pinged off the asphalt close to them. She shied away , following Derek as he yanked her around their apartment building and took off at a sprint. A few residential streets later, they cut across an empty lot, heading for the woods. Behind them, emerging from the putrid smoke, several more black clad men riding quads turned towards them, following a trio of german shepherds as they caught the scent.

Cora exchanged glances with Derek, eyes glowing yellow and teeth clenched in a predatory grimace. Only a crease of worry detracted from the fierceness of her expression. "We need to split up!" she yelled, dropping to all fours as they broke through the treeline.

"No!" Derek snarled, claws digging into the loose topsoil as he bounded through the dense forest. "We're sticking together. Head for Beacon Hills!"

Cora held his gaze for a brief second longer, then nodded, speeding up until she was two paces ahead of him. Derek stayed protectively right on her tail, roaring in frustration as the sound of pursuit grew closer.

[Break: Change in P.o.V]

"Lydia, is something wrong?" asked Scott. He'd been leaning back in the passenger seat and had almost dozed off when the car trembled, jolting him awake. It was almost completely dark. The concert was still a good three hours away; the other's had left much earlier because Jason had to be there for a rehearsal.

Lydia gripped the steering wheel with bone white hands, the color swiftly draining from her face. Wordlessly, she pulled off the freeway and swerved back on, going back the way she came. Turning her headlights off, she floored the accelerator, pushing the car far beyond the speed limit.

"Lydia!" yelled Isaac from the back seat. "What are you doing?"

"It's coming," she whispered hoarsely, eyes wide with fear. "It's coming." she repeated. "We can still stop it."

"Stop what? What's coming?" asked Scott urgently. He held tightly on the passenger side handle as he watched the speedometer continue to climb. "Lydia!"

"Derek's dying," she said frantically. "Sc-scott, I see him dying! He can't die! I won't let it happen. Not after… not after…" her elevating voice died down and she broke into silent sobs, tears flowing freely from her eyes. Despite her distraction and inattention, she stayed in full control of the car, weaving deftly around any traffic they came across.

Scott gulped, suddenly feeling sick to his stomach. "Drive faster." he said. "Isaac, call Mr. Argent."

Behind them, an almost whimper-like sound escaped from Isaac as the speedometer climbed towards the red zone. They reached the turnoff in a fraction of the time it took them to go the same distance towards Fresno, and soon they were racing back into Beacon Hills territory, Lydia following a sense none of the others had.

"Scott, I'm sorry," she whispered. In the dark, Scott could have sworn her skin turned an even paler shade of white. That sick feeling suddenly felt like a block of ice.

[Break: P.o.V change]

Cora stumbled forward with a grunt of pain, tumbling along the ground until she crashed up against a rotting tree stump. Blood streamed from a bullet wound along her thigh, caking over quickly as her exhausted body tried to heal her. "Derek!" They had been running almost non stop towards Beacon Hills, fleeing from their unknown attackers. Derek had already disemboweled two of the dogs that had ventured too close to them.

Derek was at her side in an instant. "How many are there now?" asked Cora, gasping for breath. She clutched Derek's leather jacket tightly as he bent to pick her up.

"Six, I think," Derek replied. "I can't tell, for sure." He was almost completely out of breath. Beacon Hills was a good fifty miles from Westonville, a difficult distance to run even for a werewolf.

Derek lifted her easily from the ground and sprinting away, ducking as a few haphazard shots landed close. The fall had cost them a good amount of their lead, and the hunters were now within their line of sight. They'd managed to stay ahead of the hunters by a good margin during the entire chase, but both of them were exhausted and injured, and their enemies had vehicles. Getting closer to Beacon Hills, the trees and cover thinned out somewhat, allowing their pursuit to line up a few lucky shots and steadily close the distance.

Derek growled deep in his throat as bullets flew past him in all directions, some landing within inches of his body. One of the quads leapt off a small incline, landing almost on top of them. Derek stumbled aside in surprise, tripping over a covered root and both he and Cora fell down an incline, rolling down to come to a rest at the bottom of the small ravine. Cora flew out of his arms, bouncing several yards away. Derek winced as he heard one of her arms snap. They came to a rest in a tiny stream, sinking slightly in the mud. The night's cool temperature kept the mud firm, but still pliable enough to offer a somewhat soft landing.

The one quad's engine died and two men slid their way down the hill. Derek pushed himself up on his hands and knees, struggling for breath. One man landed next to him and kicked him in the stomach then smashed the butt of his rifle into the back of his neck, driving him to the ground. "Don't move-" He started.

Derek swiped his arm, claws extended. They sliced into flesh, cutting cleanly through the man's Achilles tendon. He collapsed to the ground with a scream. Derek shot to his feet and punched the hunter solidly in the jaw. He went limp immediately, falling unconscious. Derek ignored him and bolted towards the second man, who stood over Cora. He stopped several paces away as the hunter held a gun to her head. He was younger than the one Derek had just taken down, and his arms shook, one gun pointing at Cora, and one at Derek. Derek could smell the fear radiating from him.

"If you pull that trigger, you won't live to see tomorrow," threatened Derek. His eyes blazed with a fierce red glow. The Hunter gulped, looking around for the other members of his group. The sound of approaching quads grew louder, but was still a minute away. "Put the guns down." His voice was thick with the influence of an Alpha. It only really worked on Betas and Omegas, but it was very intimidating for regular humans even without the unexplainable drive to obey.

The young hunter nodded slowly and carefully lowered his weapons to the ground before backing away. Derek took a step forward and growled. The hunter stumbled back, turning tail to run away. He let him go, focusing on Cora.

Up top, the other quads caught up and came to a stop, motors idling. The last remaining dog rushed ahead, bounding down the slope, caught up in the hunt as the hunters spread out to cut off the wolves' escape. Derek lowered himself into a crouch protectively in front of Cora. Eyes blazing red, he roared. The dog skidded to a halt, tumbling over its own paws as it hurried to flee from the Alpha, whimpering in terror.

Derek growled in defiance as the hunters brought their guns to bear and took aim. His arms and legs would barely hold his body up. There was nowhere to go where their guns couldn't reach, and he adamantly refused to leave Cora and run. The first bullets tore into his abdomen and limbs, forcing him to his knees. Another took him in the shoulder and he collapsed onto his back, gasping for breath. His breathing was shallow and painful.

There was a sudden flurry of gunfire, too much to come from the handguns the hunters were using, and none of it hit him or even landed near. There was shouting and confusion, flashes of light and small explosions, and the hunters turned tail and fled. From the other side of the ravine, two werewolves took a running leap, clearing the other side with room to spare. They sped away, keeping after the hunters with the same determined ferocity with which the hunters had come after Derek and Cora. A man on a dirtbike followed them shortly after, armed to the teeth with powerful looking guns. He launched bolts from a crossbow which flared with bright light and a startling snap that sounded more like a firework detonating.

Derek was on his back, within arms distance of Cora. It was a struggle even to turn his head to look at her. "Cora?" His voice was weak, and blood dripped from the corner of his mouth. Breathing was difficult, and his body was far beyond what it could heal on its own. "Are you...okay?" A sudden fear gripped his heart as his sister stayed silent. He was about to force himself up when two more figures slid down the hill and came to a stop next to him.

"Derek!" Dr. Deaton quickly pulled his bag out and opened it up. "Dont move. We'll get you fixed up as best we can."

"Cora first," he coughed, spraying more blood droplets everywhere. "She can't…"

"Cora's fine," said the other person. Derek recognized the voice as belonging Scott's mom, Melissa McCall. "She's unconscious, but in no danger. We need to get you to the hospital."

"My clinic is closer, and better equipped for the, ah, supernatural," said Deaton. "I can treat his injuries there, but we're running out of time. Try to stop the bleeding as best you can. I'll get Cora into my car." Deaton stripped off his gloves and slowly began carrying Cora up the hill.

Off in the distance, a single engine grew louder, and Scott's dirtbike sputtered into the clearing. Mr. Argent got off, carrying a second passenger on the back. Melissa gasped in shock as the ex-hunter carefully lowered the young werewolf to the ground. Scott's shirt was a bloody mess, evidence of a gunshot wound. "Scott! What happened?"

"It's not fatal, mom," grunted Scott. "How's Derek?"

Mrs. McCall returned to her patient. Derek had fallen unconscious, but was still breathing as well as could be expected. She'd pulled a mask over his face and started feeding him oxygen rich air to offset his collapsed lung until it could be properly treated. "I don't know yet. We need to get him out of the mud though. Help me!"

Isaac trotted into the clearing and assisted Mr. Argent as they carefully lifted Derek out. Within ten minutes, they were outside the small clinic and rushing the two injured werewolves inside. Only when Deaton was in the operating room with Derek did Scott finally pay attention to his own injuries. The shot hadn't hit anything vital, but bled heavily until his body sealed up the wound. Until the bullet was removed, the flesh would not be able to heal properly. Scott sat in the waiting room while Chris Argent gingerly cut away his shirt and prepared to remove the bullet. The older man cringed as he used a borrowed scalpel to slowly scrape away the scab

"This is going to hurt," said Chris. "Probably a lot."

Scott grimaced. "Just do it."

Using the scalpel, Chris slowly pushed Scott's torn flesh away, widening the wound before reaching in and extracting the barbed tips with a pair of delicate pliers. With a final yank, it was over and Scott was left on the waiting room floor curled in the fetal position and gasping for breath. Chris watched carefully as the flesh knitted together and the wound faded completely. "That never ceases to amaze me." he stated, shaking his head.

Lydia slowly made her way into the waiting room from outside. She seemed almost shy about it, as if expecting some sort of reprimand or scolding. Some color had returned to her face though, and her face was no longer so deeply creased with worry. "Scott, I'm so sorry." She took in the remaining evidence of his injuries, the ruined shirt and jacket, bloodstained bandages and splintered arrow shafts.

"It's okay, Lydia. Nobody's going to die tonight," Scott soothed. Her earlier statement now made a little bit more sense. "You can sense people getting injured, in addition to them dying?"

She just nodded. "I'm sorry, It's all my fault. If I-"

"There was nothing you could have done, Lydia," said Chris gruffly. "It was either have Derek and Cora die or get Scott injured and save them. You made the right choice. All three of them will be fine." He pulled the young teen into a warm embrace. He gently released Lydia and headed for the door. "Keep me posted, Scott. I've got to go, before the trail gets too cold." He left quickly.

Scott and Isaac paced back and forth as they waited. Lydia sat to one side, still slightly in shock. She didn't seem nervous though, which led Scott to believe Deaton and Melissa were doing well.

Isaac spun towards the door as it opened, claws out and ready to strike. Stiles, halfway inside, stumbled backwards in surprise, nearly causing a traffic jam in the doorway. "Oh, you're back. What took you so long?"

Jason helped Stiles regain his balance and stepped inside, closing the door behind him. He was immediately almost overwhelmed by the tense atmosphere. "We had a few complications with some of the fans in Fresno," he said. "Sorry we're late. What did we miss?" He eyed Scott's shredded and blood covered shirt.

"Some sort of hunter group nearly killed Derek and Cora," said Scott. "Deaton's working on Derek right now." Scott looked almost relieved. "I'm glad you're back. Things got crazy real fast."

All attention turned to the operating room as the door opened. Deaton and Melissa emerged, both tired and covered with drying blood, but wearing satisfied expressions. Melissa gave Scott and Stiles a reassuring smile. "You don't have to worry, Scott. Derek's doing just fine. Both he and Cora just need a good night's sleep." She checked her watch. "I've got to get back to the hospital. Lydia, I'll drive you home." She gave Scott a quick hug before cleaning up and leaving with Lydia.

Scott turned his attention back to Deaton. "Are they awake?" he asked. "Can we see them?"

Deaton shook his head. "Not yet. Derek's still sedated, and I wouldn't disturb Cora just yet. Just be patient until morning. Go home, get some rest. You did well today, Scott, Isaac."

His gaze shifted to Jason. "Good to see you made it back safely. How was your concert?"

Jason shrugged. "Not as exciting as things here, apparently." He hesitated. "Did you need me to…" he trailed off.

Deaton pulled off his exam gloves and gestured toward the back room. "Cora's fine. Like we said, all she really needs now is rest. But if you can speed up Derek's recovery, we'll be able to find out more about what happened faster."

"Mr. Argent left a while ago to over the leftovers," said Scott, "But he didn't seem to optimistic about finding much."

Jason followed Deaton back into the operating room. Derek was still on the table, lit by the powerful overhead lights. His arms and chest were the most damaged, but portions of his pants had been cut away to allow access to a few less serious injuries. Lines of stitches and bandages covered his chest, showing evidence of at least seven bullet wounds. Nearly all his visible skin was discolored by splotches of black and purple, bruises that his body was unable to heal. Jason winced in sympathy.

"I don't know how much I'll be able to heal," he said slowly, looking at Deaton. "I'll do what I can." He pulled up his sleeves and placed his hands on Derek's chest, over his heart. The customary black lines began snaking their way up his arms, then glowed white-gold before reversing direction. The glow spreaded to the wound sites, causing them to sizzle slightly as they slowly started faded away. He only lasted a few minutes before he had to stop. He pulled his hands away, breathing heavier than before. His arms shook slightly, and the places where the glowing light had passed were raised in irritated red bumps, almost like mild burns.

"Jason," said Deaton. "It's time for you to take your birthright more seriously."

Jason paused. "What do you mean?" He frowned, looking at his hands. Gritting his teeth, he continued the healing process.

"You have been a werehawk for six years, Jason, and in terms of skill and power, you're still an infant," said Deaton. "I didn't think that would be a problem; I assumed that you'd be able to live here with the others just fine and live a normal life." he cleared his throat. "With recent events, and Lydia's foreshadowing, I need you to step up to the plate and become a real werehawk."

Jason remained silent, pausing his healing efforts again. He glanced over at the doctor, eyes flaring red briefly. "A real werehawk? What does that make me now? An imitation?"

"Immature would probably be a better word for it," said Deaton. "You haven't developed many of the abilities that could be very useful in the coming months."

Jason shook his head. "I've done some research, but without any direction, contacts, or hints, I wasn't able to uncover much about werehawks. I've got what I did find in a storage unit back in LA, but I'm not very good at using the knowledge I've gained. I don't have the stamina it requires."

Deaton nodded. "I thought as much. There aren't very many reliable sources of information out there. But research can come later. What I need you to work on, is this." He walked over to a small filing cabinet and withdrew an old scroll. Jason instantly recognized his mother's handwriting.

"What is that?" he asked, leaving Derek's side to take the scroll.

"Your mother entrusted me with a sort of textbook on using the power of primary feathers," said Deaton. He indicated Jason's work with Derek. "You've been doing well to develop your healing ability, but healing like this is limited without _this." _He tapped the scroll. "Your primary feathers are like your own personal nematon, Jason. This is what gives werehawks the stamina that you have lacked so far. I need you to learn how to tap into that power quickly. I don't know how much time we have, but we definitely haven't seen the last of our new friends."

Jason frowned, putting the scroll away carefully in his pocket. He then turned back to Derek. Most of the Alpha's wounds had closed along the surface and had started knitting together. He was still covered in bruises. "I've already started learning more from the book you gave me. School starts in a few days. I'll have more time to work on this."

"Don't put this off, Jason," said Deaton. "I really need your help. I don't want to lose anyone else."

Jason nodded, finally understanding where the doctor was coming from. Deaton hadn't meant to insult his progress, he was desperate. Jason took another short break before continuing the healing, determined to finish. As he returned his hands to Derek's chest, the Alpha's eyes opened, blazing an angry red. He looked around quickly, a bit disoriented, then his eyes locked on Jason. With a gasp of recognition, his nose picking up Jason's scent, his features shifted to full werewolf and he roared loudly, knocking Jason's arms away and swiping his claws across Jason's chest.

Jason staggered back, streaks of red quickly soaking into his shirt. He raised one arm to protect himself, using the other to try and cradle his wound while backing out of the room. Derek was on his feet and focused on Jason with the single mindedness of a predator.

"You!" Derek growled, grabbing Jason and shoving him up against the wall. "You're not escaping this time."

"Scott, help!" yelled Deaton. "Derek, stop!" Derek brushed him aside. Jason growled in response, fangs elongating as he took on his full werewolf appearance. He snaked his one free arm around until he managed to plunge a claw deep into Derek's bicep. Derek's arm went slack and he lost his grip, dropping Jason to the floor as Scott burst into the hallway and plowed Derek back into the operating room. Glass shattered and anything that wasn't bolted down smashed to the floor as they wrestled inside.

Moving quickly, Deaton pulled Jason to his feet and hurried him into the waiting room, closing the mountain ash barricade behind him. Derek appeared again with Scott hanging around his neck, arms interlocked as he tried to bring Derek down. The older Alpha easily threw Scott off despite his own injuries. He crashed into the invisible ward, punching it with blows that could shatter concrete. "Deaton! Let me out!" he roared again and continued to pound away at the barrier, to no effect.

Jason was on the floor of the waiting room, skin turning pale from shock and loss of blood. He and Isaac were trying to stop the flow. The wounds were deep were inflicted by an Alpha, and Jason had already exhausted his body's natural healing capabilities, using them to patch Derek up.

Scott, bring me the big black book from my office, quickly," ordered Deaton. Satisfied that the barrier would contain the raging Alpha, Deaton took the book when Scott returned and opened it, revealing a hidden compartment. Inside, he had one large brown feather. This he took and with it, knelt next to Jason. He spoke quickly and quietly in ancient Celtic. Beads of sweat stood out on his forehead as the feather began to glow. He touched it to Jason's wounds, one by one, and they sealed up, the feather crumbling to dust. Isaac gasped in amazement at the sight.

"H-how did you do that?" asked Isaac.

"I can use the energy contained in a werehawk's primary feather as I would the energy of a nematon," said Deaton. "It's a druid thing." He sat back against the counter, breathing hard. "I haven't done something like that in a while. I forgot how hard it is."

"Um, guys?" said Stiles. He got up from his seat in the waiting room as Derek stopped his assault on the mountain ash ward and staggered against the back wall before collapsing to the floor.

Deaton got to his feet, brushing his lab coat off. "Scott, is he okay?"

From his position on the ground, Derek snarled, too exhausted to move. Deaton peered over the counter, unhindered by the ward. "You're in no position to continue fighting, Derek. Settle down or I'll sedate you."

Derek glared at the doctor, chest rising and falling as he labored to breathe. His injuries were still not fully healed, and his body was in no condition to take on that kind of project without rest. "I spent weeks, looking for that guy! All this time he was hiding here?!" he yelled. "I want answers!"

"Well trying to kill people is a very inefficient way of getting them!" bellowed Deaton. The room went quiet in shock at the doctor's outburst. He was arguably the most level headed one in the group and had never once yelled, at any of them. He took a second to compose himself before continuing. "I asked Jason to come to Beacon Hills. I asked him to restore you to Alpha. All that was _my_ doing. Get over it. I can give you the whole story later if you'd like, but for now, let's just get you fixed up."

Derek scowled, but relented. "Fine, but don't let him anywhere near me," he grumbled. "I don't trust him. And if he comes within ten feet of Cora, he'd better find a new country to live in."

"Uh, Derek?" said Stiles tentatively. "Jason's the one who's been healing you."

Deaton opened the ward and briefly re-examined Derek as the young Alpha processed that information. "Some of your wounds ripped open again. Jason, can you seal these?"

Jason poked his head over to take a look, ignoring Derek's expression of obvious dislike. "I think so, but that's it for tonight. I'm almost at my limit." He came around the counter and knelt.

Derek growled as Jason reached his hands towards his side and tried to inch away. Deaton silenced him with a stern look, and Derek surrendered under the doctor's threat of sedatives, content to glower at them as they worked. He then watched in curious interest, despite himself, as Jason's hands made contact, directly over the wounds and the healing took place. A minute later it was over, the top layers of flesh healed to the point that there was no longer danger of bleeding .

"That's all I can do," said Jason. He yawned wearily and massaged his arms where the red welts had risen. "How do you feel?"

Derek slowly levered himself up into a sitting position, ignoring Jason's offer to help. "Better than dead," he said gruffly. He slumped against the wall, still in pain.

"Scott, we need to find a place for Derek and Cora to stay," said Deaton.

Scott sighed. "We dont have enough room at my place. My _dad _came back to town."

"You mean he actually left?" asked Derek in disbelief.

"Yeah, he had a FBI something or other conference down in San Diego," said Scott. "And then he decided to spend new years with us."

"I have plenty of room at my place, and it's well protected," offered Jason hesitantly. He shrugged as Derek's expression went sour. "Just a thought."

"No, you're right," agreed Deaton. "That's the best we have." He sighed as Derek started to object. "Deal with it! I can't keep you here tonight. Get some rest. We'll all meet tomorrow to discuss what happened."

After Deaton did a final check up on Cora, Scott and Stiles carefully moved her to the back of Jason's car while Jason and Isaac helped Derek. After his fit in the clinic, he was literally exhausted and couldn't even fully support his own weight.

The drive was short and before long they were pulling into the garage. Ethan and Jordan were there waiting, ready to assist. They carefully took Cora inside while Jason was left to help Derek. They slowly made their way inside and up the stairs to one of the spare bedrooms. Derek was shocked silent, just taking in the entire property as they made their way through the house. Always ready for unexpected guests, Jason kept the beds clean and made and the closets stocked with a wide variety of clothing.

Jason hit the light switch and stood by as Derek carefully made his way to the bed, only half collapsing into it. "I'll put fresh towels in the bathroom for you and Cora, and you're welcome to any clothing in the closets." He indicated the room's second door, which led to the bathroom. "Cora's room is connected through there. Try to get some sleep. Breakfast will be served at seven thirty. Just call if you need anything." He made to leave the room, shutting off the light.

"Hey, Jason," said Derek. Jason poked his head back in the room. In the low light he could still see Derek as the Alpha worked his jaw, as if debating what to say. He waited patiently for a minute. "I just… thanks." he said finally. "For saving my life. Not every alpha I know would do what you did." Derek looked away, scowling in embarrassment.

"That's what it means to be a true alpha," said Jason. He left, pulling the door shut after him.

Derek lay awake for a while, mulling over those words, as well as thinking about his family, his pack, and what his life had been like over the past few months. It had been a long time since he'd considered himself normal, or even sought a 'normal' life. If he wasn't on the run, he was living in a burned out house, an industrial loft, or an abandoned warehouse. Even most recently he'd been in a rundown apartment that he could barely afford, and he was lucky to have a car. He cringed as he thought of the poor vehicle, now in a thousand pieces all over his apartment complex.

Laying in a real bed, in a real _home, _reminded him of what being born a werewolf had taken from him. He envied Jason, not for his money, but for his ability to establish a stable home, a rock in the ocean. That was something Derek wanted, something he craved; a place to call home, where he could always return to without having to worry about hunters, or other insane supernatural killers. A place like the old Hale house had been. He'd noticed as soon as he'd stepped inside, that Jason's home had the same warm feeling as the Hale house had when Talia was alive. Whatever the reason, it comforted him. Derek's eyelids grew heavy and he slowly drifted off to sleep. For the first time in years, he felt safe.


	10. Before the Storm

Chapter 9: Before the storm

The first thing Derek noticed when he woke up was that he'd slept better than he had in years. Now fully rested, his body was able to completely heal the leftover injuries from the night before. Despite this, he was still extremely sore and had a lingering sense of fatigue that refused to fade away. He finally managed to gather the willpower necessary to lever himself out of bed, staggering into the bathroom he shared with Cora. He took a long, hot shower, washing away the caked on layers of sweat, grime and dried blood.

Healed, clean, and dry, he made his way back to his room and explored the closets. He was surprised to find clothing in all styles and sizes, many which worked perfectly for him, including a black leather jacket similar to the one he'd lost the night before. Fully dressed and feeling a lot better, he made his way downstairs, following his nose to the kitchen, and stopping short at what he saw. Ethan, Jordan, Stiles, Scott, Isaac, and Cora were already seated around the massive kitchen table, digging into massive platters of eggs, meats, and hashbrowns. As he watched, Jason lowered a steaming stack of waffles onto the table. He looked up.

"Derek, good to see you up," said Jason. "Are you hungry?"

"Starved," he said, taking the last open seat, farthest away from Jason. Regardless of what had happened, Derek was still a bit miffed at Jason, but more so at Deaton. Stiles passed him a clean plate, and in seconds it was buried in food and he was eating just as ravenously as the others. Nobody talked, completely absorbed in their food.

Jason finished cooking and relaxed against the counter, content to just watch the others as they ate, then vanished down the hallway as his phone vibrated.

"You feeling okay, Cora?" asked Derek between mouthfuls. His younger sister looked fine, but had dark circles under her eyes.

Cora nodded, giving him a warm, easy smile. "I'll be fine." she said. "I wasn't hurt as bad as you were, Derek." Satisfied with her answer, Derek finished eating by the time Jason came back. Following him into the kitchen were Sheriff Stilinski, Doctor Deaton, and a very dirty, very tired Chris Argent. Despite his fatigue, Chris looked both pleased with himself and troubled at the same time.

"If you're all finished, perhaps it is time to hold our little meeting," suggested Deaton.

Jason indicated the hallway leading to the back portion of the house. "My study is that way. "Scott, Derek, and Stiles. Will you please join us?"

"Hey, what about us?" asked Isaac. "You're not going to leave us out of the discussion, are you?"

"You're coming with us," said Ethan. He caught the car keys as Jason tossed them in his direction. "Jordan and I have to get some things before school starts tomorrow. Is it safe to go to Redding, Jason?"

Jason nodded. "Just don't stop in Westonville and you should be fine. The gas card is in the glovebox." His betas took off, leaving their dirty dishes behind. Isaac trailed behind them, not wanting to be left behind.

Derek chuckled. "Look at you, just like a dad. Do they have to call and check in too?"

"It keeps them safe," said Jason. "I only warn them away from places that could put them in danger." he shrugged. "I want to give them every chance to live at least a partially normal life."

Derek's expression softened. "Sorry, I didn't mean to ridicule. I've never seen anyone like us try so hard to fit in, and succeed like you do."

Stiles laughed. "Give yourself some credit, Derek. You and Scott were doing just fine, until Peter showed up, and then the Darach came… followed by some psychotic hunters and a nogitsune."

Derek winced, trying not to laugh at the ludicrous statement, however true it was. A few of the others weren't quite as successful and the room filled with a healthy dose of laughter. He got up from the table and stretched before following the others down the hallway. Cora remained behind, insisting that she do the dishes.

Jason's study was originally meant to be a sixth bedroom, but having no need for one, he'd lined one wall with floor to ceiling bookcases, which were stocked with volumes upon volumes of books. Bright morning sunlight streamed in from the large window, filtered only slightly by the thin white curtains. In front of the window was a large desk, which had been pulled out of place to admit a ring of folding chairs around it. They all filed in and took their places. Derek could feel the tension building as each occupant mentally shifted gears, focusing on the events of the last twenty-four hours.

Jason quickly rolled up a scroll and placed it aside before taking his own seat. "We came to discuss what happened yesterday. I think we should begin with Derek's account." He looked across the table at Derek. "Please tell us what you can remember."

Derek nodded, clearing his throat. He explained about Cora's planned plane trip, the explosion, and then the subsequent flight to Beacon Hills. Chris or Deaton would interrupt occasionally to ask specific questions. He sat back in his chair as he finished.

It was Sheriff Stilinski that spoke first. "I don't care if this is some sort of supernatural feud or not, I will not allow this to continue in Beacon Hills." He turned to Chris Argent. "What did you find?"

Chris dropped a black, blood stained jacket on the table, as well as a single white envelope. The paper was smeared with dirt and blood, but intact. "This jacket belonged to one of the men that had been pursuing you. I didn't think it would be important at first, until I found this symbol, not only on the jacket, but up some discarded bullet casings, as well as in the letter." He pointed to a patch on one shoulder of the jacket. The patch was red, with a black profile of some sort of bird, very angular and precise. Where the eye should have been, was an intricate, swirling design.

"A unit patch?" asked Deaton. "I thought most families of hunters had family crests?"

"We do," said Chris. "Whatever group this belongs to, it's not a family. While each family has their own unique code of conduct, the same core values are the same. We are to do our duty quickly, efficiently, and without evidence. That is how we've operated for centuries. Whatever group this is, they aren't following any code."

"What's in the letter?" asked Stiles. He reached for the paper, but Chris snatched it up. "It contains some sort of instructions."

"Field orders?" asked Stilinski.

"Something like that," said Chris. "I don't think they were too worried about anyone finding this though. It's not in code or anything."

"What's it say?" asked Stiles impatiently.

"Two dogs in Westonville," read Chris. He paused as Derek growled. "Detain subjects and transport to lab seven. Minimal injury."

"Well, they're definitely not typical hunters if they want us alive," said Derek bitterly.

Deaton cleared his throat. "They want werewolves alive. Until we find out for what, we won't know their true motive."

"That's not what we need to be focusing on right now," interrupted Stilinski. "I need to know if they want their 'subjects' bad enough to try again. If they do, then this entire town is in danger."

Deaton nodded in agreement.

"We've raised the stakes for them," said Jason. "To my knowledge, none of Derek's pursuit were killed. That means they know there are four, possibly more, werewolves in the area."

"You said there were six to ten men?" asked Chris. Derek nodded. "I wonder what they would send if they knew there were more?" He fiddled with his cell phone. "I made a few calls to some old contacts. They don't know much, but there have been several werewolf disappearances that I want to look into. If this group is involved, we might be able to find out the motive."

"Sheriff, until we learn the motive, it's safer to assume that they'll be back," said Deaton. "We'd be wise to prepare for the worst."

"I guess I'd better get started, then," he said gruffly, standing to excuse himself. "Keep me posted." He headed for the door, then stopped. "You, ah, don't have some sort of magical way of knowing when they'd be coming, do you?"

Deaton shook his head. "Werewolves are the most unstable during the full moon," he said. "That gives us two weeks _if_ they follow that logic."

"Prepare as if it were tomorrow," said Chris. "Then use any extra time we're given to our advantage."

Sheriff Stilinski nodded his thanks and left quickly.

"We need more information," said Deaton.

"I've got some leads that I need to follow; some rumors," said Chris. He hesitated. "I'd like to ask a werewolf to go with me."

Stiles snorted. "That's a _great _idea! Lets have a werewolf visit with some of your hunter buddies while looking for some _other_ people who are trying to kill them!"

"Capture, not kill," amended Chris. "Honestly, it sounds like they're conducting some sort of experiments."

Stiles threw his hands up in the air. "Even better!"

Cora poked her head in. "I'll volunteer." She shifted her gaze to Derek as he started to object. "Don't say it. I'll be safe."

Derek looked like he wanted to punch something, badly. He swallowed, then nodded, giving his consent. "Fine." he glowered at Chris.

The ex-hunter shrugged. "Nothing will happen to your sister, Derek. We'll be back before the full moon." he promised.

"I'll hold you to that," Derek growled. He watched as Chris stood up, gathered his things, and left with Cora. As soon as they were gone, he balled his hands into fists and smashed them down towards the desk with enough force to crack the sturdy wood in half.

Jason caught Derek's fists in his own hands, stopping the blow centimeters above the tabletop. "There's a punching bag downstairs. Use it."

Derek stalked from the room. A minute later, they heard the rhythmic thumps of the bag being abused.

"Perhaps you should invest in a few more of those," commented Deaton. He stood and stretched, yawning. "I've got to get going myself. I want you all to be on your guard. As I said, the logical thing would be to wait for the full moon, but we have no indication that these people think as we do." Deaton left, heading to work, leaving Scott and Stiles with Jason.

Stiles left out a breath, shaking his head in disbelief. "I'm trying to decide which is worse, Peter, a Darach, or these new hunters."

"You forgot to mention the nogitsune," said Scott.

"The nogitsune was the worst of all," said Stiles. "It's in its own category."

"Are you two ready for school tomorrow?" asked Jason. He started folding up the chairs and returning them to the closet.

"Yeah, for the most part," said Scott. "I wanted to ask you, um, Ethan mentioned that you've been teaching him and Jordan martial arts? Could you teach us?"

"Both of you want to learn?" asked Jason.

Stiles nodded.

"Sure. We'll start tomorrow after school," said Jason. "Your homework must be done before we begin each night. Be here at six pm." He left the room and nearly ran into Derek, who was holding the punching bag. The device had nearly been ripped in half and the innards were spilling all over the floor. "Feel better?"

Derek nodded. "A little bit." He held the punching bag carefully, trying not to spill anymore of the filling. "Better than the bag does, at least."

Jason took the ruined bag and headed out to the back yard. Going through the kitchen, he went through the sliding glass door and onto the porch. Derek wandered out behind him, looking around in appreciation. "Is this a house or a gym?" he asked.

"Both," said Jason. The back porch was covered with a solid roof, much like a gazebo. It was a rectangular roof supported by several wooden pillars. A half wall bordered the concrete platform and the spaces between the pillars, much like huge windows, had been filled with the black mesh insect screening. A screen door and two large steps led down into the expansive back yard. The porch itself was filled with all sorts of exercise equipment, from treadmills to free weights. The machines were in neat rows and there were only small walkways between them.

"Your Betas train?" asked Derek.

"Yes, they do," said Jason. "I've been teaching them some martial arts as well."

"The same ones you used against me?" asked Derek curiously.

"You mean the pressure points?" asked Jason. He shook his head. "No, that's way too advanced for them at this time, but the general discipline is the same as I use. I learned martial arts years ago, from a family friend in Japan. It's a mixed form that he compiled from elements of over a dozen other arts. Each technique is suited perfectly for my own capabilities, so I'd have to adapt it a little bit for you." He picked up a fifty pound weight and twirled it easily in one hand before setting it back down.

"You think I couldn't learn the same as you?" asked Derek. He growled, eyes flashing red. "I can do anything that a werewolf like you can!"

"Derek, you can't fly," said Jason. He grinned at Derek's confused expression, passing through the screen door and out onto the lawn. The expansive yard was ringed with tall pine trees that stood just inside an eight foot tall fence. He stripped off his shirt and tossed it aside before shifting to his full werewolf mode.

"What do you mean?" asked Derek.

Jason motioned Derek to come at him. "I'll tell you if you can knock me to the ground. Let's see what you've got."

Derek ripped off his leather jacket and lunged forward, landing on his all fours before transforming and springing up in a powerful bound. He reached Jason in two easy strides and sprang for an attack, claws extended. Jason brought his arms up into a guard position and deflected him, easily diverting the lunge. Derek landed behind him in a crouch, turning to spring again, this time using his fists. Derek was physically larger than Jason, but both had well defined musculature, a sign of intense physical training. Even with the advantage of size and the strength that came with it, Derek was unable to land a solid blow. Jason would catch each punch on a guard, then somehow seem to slide away like water, taking little to no damage as he kept Derek's fists from fully connecting. They moved across the lawn, back and forth. Derek became more and more frustrated, throwing himself at Jason with increasing ferocity.

Jason took a quick step back as Derek threw another punch, then grabbed his extended arm as the larger Alpha lost his balance. Jason sunk his claws in Derek's stomach and heaved, using his own momentum to heave him over his head and slam him to the ground, flat on his back..

Derek landed hard, the air leaving his lungs in a rush. He growled, more in annoyance than pain, swiping at Jason, who danced nimbly out of reach. Watching from the porch, Stiles cheered. Derek rolled to his feet, glaring daggers at Stiles. "Stiles, it's not healthy for you to be around me right now!" he yelled. Stiles was gone before he finished his statement, taking the hint.

As Derek turned his attention back to Jason, the Hawk Alpha spun and kicked, almost lazily, catching Derek in the stomach. The force of the kick sent him flying back a few feet and sprawling once again to the ground. He landed on his back, and the momentum flipped him over until he came to a stop flat on his stomach.

"That's enough for my assessment," said Jason. He transformed back to human, hardly even breaking a sweat. Derek shot to his feet and lunged again, determined to take Jason down. Jason's wings expanded and he leapt into the air, hovering out of reach as Derek approached. Derek staggered to a halt and looked up at Jason in surprise.

He reverted to his human form, watching in fascination as Jason circled around once and landed lightly on the ground. "All this time I thought you were just some powerful werewolf that learned a few neat tricks."

Jason chuckled. "Not quite." he cleared his throat. "Well, you're not half bad, Derek, but there's still a lot of room for improvement."

Derek sat on the ground, breathing hard. His features returned to human. He looked at his shirt, which now sported five bloody holes where Jason's claws had penetrated it. "So assess me," he said impatiently.

"You're strong," said Jason, "even for a werewolf. Werehawks are physically weaker to begin with, not by much, but if I were in close quarters and you knew martial arts, I'd be in trouble. You have good speed and reflexes, but your movements are too broad. There's a lot of wasted energy and you leave yourself wide open for a skilled opponent to attack."

Derek ground his teeth as he listened, but refrained from saying anything negative. "Anything else?"

Jason shrugged. "You fight like a beast."

"In case you haven't noticed," he said angrily, fangs jutting out and eyes glowing red, "I am one!"

"That's not what I meant," said Jason patiently. "You fight with the power of a beast, but with the control of a beast."

"And that's bad?" asked Derek.

""Let me finish," said Jason. "Compared to you, I fight with the power of a beast, but with the control and discipline of a human. You're fighting like a predator, not a fighter."

Derek's fangs shrank away as he comprehended what Jason was saying. "It all comes down to better control."

Jason nodded. "You need to find a balance. Up until now, you, Scott, and the others have been fighting by instinct, wolf instinct. Wolves do well when they hunt in groups, but as soon as it's one on one, or the prey outnumbers the hunters, they're in trouble. If you combine your supernatural strengths with human discipline, and stop letting your wolf instincts take over in a fight, you'll overcome this shortcoming."

Derek thought about it for a minute, letting it sink in. "How long does training take?"

"The basics? About five days," said Jason. "If you're really good."

"I can't stay here that long," said Derek. "I need-"

"You don't have much of a choice, Derek," interrupted Jason. "Your home's compromised, your car's in pieces and you've got hunters on your tail."

Derek roared, werewolf features returning as his temper flared. "I know that! Everything that I've worked so hard to put together is falling to pieces!" He slowly unclenched his fists as he forced himself to calm down, struggling to revert to human. He grabbed his jacket and started heading for the door. "It's better for everyone if I just leave. Safer, too."

Jason beat his wings, taking off in a quick hop that sent him over Derek's head to land on the other side, blocking his path. "Derek, I know you have no reason to trust me, especially after what happened a few weeks ago, and I'm relatively new to the area. However, I already know that you're flat out wrong. You're trying to take responsibility for events that are far beyond the control of an individual. You might be an Alpha, but you're still a human. Despite everything that's happened so far, you're not the cause of it. The worst thing you could do now is leave."

"I didn't ask for my Alpha status back," said Derek.

"I didn't ask to be a Werehawk," responded Jason with a shrug. "Deal with it. We both know there's a storm coming, Derek. It's going to hit Beacon Hills weather or not you're here. Are you going to let Scott and the others face it on their own, or will you stand with them?"

"Alphas don't coexist well," said Derek.

Jason chuckled. "Do you honestly think Scott and I care about status or territory? We're more concerned about Beacon Hills and protecting our packs. I'm offering you the tools to help you protect everything you care about. Can I guarantee you'll be successful? No, but we'll all have a much better chance if we stand together." He extended his arm towards Derek, palm up.

Derek pulled off his jacket and slowly rolled up his sleeve. "I still don't trust you."

"I'm not asking for your trust," said Jason. "Just a little faith for now. I'll do my best to earn your trust in time."

Derek nodded. "Scott seems to trust you. I guess I can honor that." He took Jason's outstretched arm, hesitating only for a fraction of a second before offering his own in return as they created an Alpha pact.

Jason waited until the bite mark faded away before retrieving and shrugging on his shirt, wings fading away once again. "You and Cora are welcome to stay in my home for as long as you'd like." He headed inside, leaving Derek to his own devices.

He returned to his home office, resuming his study of the scroll his mother had left in Deaton's care. He'd been surprised to find the words of another song; one that he realized his mother had used quite often. It was Zentai Tsukuru, a song of healing. It wasn't written in english, but he understood every word as they etched themselves into his memory. When used combined with his primary feathers, he'd be able to heal more than one person, and perhaps even more severe injuries than before.

Jason kept working for hours, until the sun went down, reading and rereading everything his mother had written. He stopped around dusk, taking the time to prepare for school the next day and waiting for Ethan and Jordan to get back. Without them there, the house was quiet. Jason came out into the living room, finding Derek on the couch and reading a book quietly. Neither of them spoke, content to tolerate each other's presence. Derek got up and disappeared into his room as Jason's car pulled up and the betas returned. Jason stayed for a while, grabbing a bite to eat before heading up to his own room. He was actually looking forward to teaching again, but it was hard to focus when you were one of the only people in town who knew there was trouble brewing.

Night came swiftly and his house slowly grew quiet. Jason perched on his rooftop, deep in thought as he watched the stars in the sky, unable to sleep. As he watched, something caught his eye. Off to one side, near the back of his property, there was a muted blue flash that flared suddenly before fading away to nothingness. Something supernatural had impacted against his mountain ash barrier. He couldn't be sure of what he saw. Whatever it was, he only caught sight of its fleeting shadow.


End file.
